


All Your New Beginnings

by lacewood



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Seirin, and the whole damn gang, seirin!aomine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-09
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2017-11-15 23:06:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacewood/pseuds/lacewood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[AU] Aomine ends up in Seirin with Kuroko and Momoi. Sometimes second chances don’t look the way you expect them to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

The clock read 3.25, almost half an hour after the scheduled time slot. The seat across the coffee table, however, remained resolutely empty. Harasawa leaned back, rubbed his chin and sighed. Ah well.

Aomine Daiki was a figure of legend and renown by this point, a lot of it promising, some of it less so. But he’d been prepared to overlook a great deal for a player from the Generation of Miracles. Arguably, Touou’s strategy for surviving the next 3 years depended on it.

But if Aomine hadn’t bothered to show up for his interview, then he wasn’t interested. Perhaps someone else had moved faster, made the boy an offer he couldn’t refuse.

Harasawa sighed again and stood. Time to look into other possibilities, then.

 

 

“You _what_?!”

Aomine grimaced and held his phone an arm’s length away from his ear. “Oi, not so loud, that hurt,” he complained and yawned. “I didn’t mean to, okay, I just woke up and it’s already 4 so it’s not like I could make it down in time even if I wanted.”

“Do you know how serious this is?” Satsuki wailed on the other end of the line. “Touou was the last school that asked to interview you! You already turned all the others down! Or _they_ turned you down! Where are you going to go now?!”

Satsuki worried way too much about everything. Lots of people went to high school, plenty of them bigger morons than him. It wasn’t like it was that hard.

“It’s just another school,” he said. “Who cares?”

“But you need a sports school! One with a good basketball team! Or else what are you going to do?!”

Aomine snorted. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not like I’ll lose either way.”

Satsuki’s silence was long and so frustrated even he could tell. 

“Just pick somewhere, it’ll be fine,” he said, and sprawled back down, head pillowed on the magazine of the week. Yawned.

In the end, she sighed. “Fine. You’ll have to sit for entrance exams though, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Yeah yeah, just lend me your notes.”

It’d be fine. It wasn’t like it was going to make a difference.

 

 

Riko spread the sign up forms across the table and stared, the better to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating.

“I’m not imagining this, right?” she said.

“Teikou?” Hyuuga said, disbelieving. “ _Two_ of them?”

“If they’re first years, doesn’t that mean they’re from the Generation of Miracles? What are they doing in Seirin?!”

“Maybe they weren’t regulars,” Hyuuga said, expression dubious. “There’s no way...”

“But what if they are? Can you imagine what we could do with two of them? And I don’t remember anyone like that passing by the booth at all, how did I miss them?”

“It could be someone’s idea of a joke,” Hyuuga said and frowned. “Some very stupid first year’s idea of a joke.”

They looked at each other. It was probably some kind of stupid prank; what were the odds, after all? But what if it wasn’t?

“Practice starts tomorrow. I... I guess we’ll know then,” Riko said.


	2. Part  One

Riko frowned. Kagami was impressive, true, but he was the only really outstanding one so far. What about the two Teikou sign ups? Surely she would have noticed someone of that calibre by now? And there were 16 names on the sheet but she only counted 14 first years here...

The gym door swung open with a loud thud.

“I’m really sorry!” the girl in the door said. “We didn’t mean to be late, it took us longer to find the gym than I expected - Aomine! Apologise to everyone too!”

Everyone in the gym turned - and stared.

The girl in the door was pink-haired and curvy and very, very pretty. She would have been more than enough to draw the eye of every boy in the room, but she hadn’t come alone. Standing next to her, scowling, was a tall, dark boy who, Riko could tell even with the most cursory glance, was more than impressive. His stats could be even better than Kagami’s - which meant he had to be the real deal. He _had_ to be from the Generation of Miracles.

“What kind of school is so small it doesn’t even have its own gym?” the new boy grumbled. “Let go of me, Satsuki!”

“Not until you say you’re sorry!” the girl insisted.

“Stop being such a pai--”

“Ah,” a voice beside Riko suddenly said. She yelped and leapt back.

“Aomine? Momoi? Why are you here?” asked the not-especially-tall, perfectly nondescript boy standing right where Riko was 100% certain she hadn’t noticed anyone standing five seconds ago.

“Since when were you there?” Riko demanded.

“I was here all along,” he told her.

The other boy looked blank. “Tetsu? What are you doing here?”

“Aomine, I asked the question fir--”

“Hi Tetsu!” the girl interrupted and waved.

The two boys snapped around in perfect unison to look at her.

“You knew he was here?” the taller boy said at the same time that the boy-who’d-been-there-all-along (or so he claimed) asked, “Momoi, did you plan this?”

“I’m so sorry, Tetsu!” the girl said, her eyes big and teary, ignoring the spluttering of the boy next to her. “Are you angry? I didn’t want to but stupid Aomine got himself rejected by all the other schools, and then he _overslept_ for his last interview! I didn’t know what to do with him!”

“Hey!” the idiot in question said. “Who are you call--”

Riko clapped her hands together with a loud, hard smack. “RIGHT,” she announced over the impending argument. “Practice now, reunions later! Now that all our first years are here, why don’t you introduce yourselves? Take off your shirts!”

“What?!”

“Again? I just put it back on...”

“I didn’t see you, it doesn’t count! You! Shirt off! Names!”

“I’m Kuroko,” said the shorter boy. Shirt off, he was... exactly as average as he’d looked with his shirt on. Riko blinked.

“You’re from Teikou?” she said, dubious, and he nodded.

Someone behind her said, tactlessly, “Oh, but you can’t have been a regular, right?”

“Hm? I did play in matches,” the boy said, expression mild.

“What?!” “No way!” “Eh?! But you look--”

“He’s telling the truth. Morons,” the taller boy said, shirt off, expression annoyed. The girl prodded him in the side and he added, “Aomine.”

“We’re from Teikou too, we were on the team with Kuroko,” the girl said.

No one bothered to question _him_.

Riko took in Aomine in an awed trance. She’d been right, he was even higher level than Kagami, she wasn’t even sure how that was _possible_. They weren’t joking when they said the Generation of Miracles were monsters; what couldn’t Seirin do with two players like this?

Dragging herself out of sudden, glorious visions of Seirin’s impending, unstoppable sprint to the top and back to reality, she looked at the girl. “Ah, and you are?” she asked.

The girl bowed. “I’m Momoi Satsuki, pleased to meet you! I was a manager with the Teikou basketball club and I’ll like to apply to be the manager for the Seirin basketball club too.”

Koganei crowed from the other end of the gym. “Yes! Cute and cuddly manager!” Someone else cheered in support.

Riko twitched. Then she turned to beam at the seniors. Clearly they hadn’t been worked hard enough - yet. “Second years! 20 laps around the gym!”

“Ha? But we--”

“Yes? Did someone say 30?”

“RUNNING. RUNNING NOW. Shut up, Koganei!”

The seniors fled the gym under the blinding force of Riko’s smile and she looked at Momoi. But it wasn’t her fault the boys were all suckers, and Riko wasn’t going to complain about having another girl around to help with things.

“Sorry about that,” she said. “If you wait till practice is over, I’ll give you the form to fill in. Is that okay?”

Momoi bobbed her head. “Sure, Coach.”

Riko looked at the crowd of first years and rubbed the back of her neck to think. What had she been planning to do with them again, before the sudden flood of Teikou excitement distracted all of them?

This looked like an interesting year already - and it hadn’t even started yet.

 

 

Kagami dumped his tray on the table and slid into the seat. Basketball practice today hadn’t been much - mostly just introductions and warm ups and easy drills while the coach assessed them and took notes. Boring stuff. But the team looked like it might be more interesting than he thought.

The Generation of Miracles... and two of them too. Maybe they would be players worth--

He caught a movement from the corner of his eye and nearly choked on his burger. “Argh!”

“Hello. Wow, you really eat a lot,” Kuroko said from the opposite seat.

“Where did you come from?! What do you want?!”

“Ah, actually I sat here first. I was just watching people.”

Watching people...? Kagami stared at him and finished his first burger. Could someone like this really have come from Japan’s best middle school basketball team? But he and the other Teikou guy had both said that he played in matches, so it wasn’t like he could have made it up.

Whatever, only one way to find out.

“Hey--” Kagami was starting to say when Kuroko’s eyes flicked to a point somewhere past his shoulder.

“Ah,” he said, just as a girl’s voice behind Kagami said, “Tetsu! Grabbing dinner too?”

“No, I just stopped for a drink,” he said. “Hello.”

Kagami turned to find himself looking up at the other Teikou guy and the girl who’d come with him. Girlfriend, he assumed, not that Kagami gave a shit either way.

“Yo,” the other boy said with total unenthusiasm.

Their table could only seat two so the girl dragged the boy over to the empty table right behind Kuroko, twisting around in her seat so she could chatter at him about her new classmates and ask what Kuroko’s were like.

Kagami washed down his last burger and said, “Hey, you guys up for a game?” The other three looked at him. “You guys, you’re from that team they call the Generation of Miracles, right? I want to see what you’ve got.”

Aomine gave him a once over and didn’t look impressed, but after a moment, he shrugged. “Fine.”

Kuroko studied him, expression unreadable, then nodded.

“Let’s get it over with,” Aomine said and stood.

The basketball court they found in the nearby park was empty. Momoi settled herself on the bench beside it and Kagami looked between Aomine and Kuroko. This was a little awkward with odd numbers.

“One-on-one? Who wants to go first?” he said.

“Che. Don’t bother with Tetsu, it’s not his style,” Aomine said, and Kuroko didn’t argue, only settled himself next to Momoi.

Kagami was at least a little curious about Kuroko - he couldn’t smell anything off him at all, good or bad, and that was weird - but Aomine, oh yeah, there was no question about Aomine. He had to be good, probably the best he’d seen so far in Japan. Man, how long had it been?

The ball spun up into the sodium orange light and the game was on.

Aomine was good. He was better than good, he was phenomenal. It took all of five seconds for Kagami to realise that if Aomine was what the Generation of Miracles had to offer, they’d earned that name. Aomine was faster, stronger, better, and more than that, his technique was so fucking wild, it had become something else entirely; raw talent transmuted into undeniable, unstoppable grace.

Momoi called out that ten minutes were up just as Aomine’s last shot bounced off the headerboard and sank into the hoop.

“That’s the best you can do?” he said, expression as bored as when he’d started. He had barely broken a sweat, Kagami must be rustier than he’d thought. If he’d known, he would’ve picked a middle school with an actual basketball team for his third year.

Damn, he’d missed this.

“Heh,” he said, and then before he could stop himself he was laughing, a long, loud whoop into the night air. “Ha! Guess they weren’t making it up after all! Miracles, huh?” He looked around to find the other three staring at him, expressions ranging between politely blank to weirded out.

“Haha, sorry, got carried away there,” he said. “I was in America until my second year of middle school, and when I came back, the basketball standards here were just way too low. I’m not playing basketball for fun, where’s the fun if there’s no challenge? I want matches that make your blood boil. If it’s you guys, looks like I’ll have to get serious.”

Aomine snorted. “You think you can take on the Generation of Miracles the way you are now? Forget it, you’ll be dead meat.”

Man, he’d even missed the trash talking. Kagami just grinned at him. “So what? I’m used to it. You think you’re the strongest guy I’ve seen? Maybe here you are, but it’s different in America. What’s the point if there’s no one stronger than you?”

Aomine looked at him with narrowed eyes, interested despite himself. In the end, he turned away. “Che. Come back when you have something worth showing.”

He left without a backward glance, leaving Momoi to wave her goodbyes to Kuroko before hopping up and following.

Kagami looked at Kuroko then, still sitting on the sidelines watching. “What about you?”

Kuroko caught the ball when Kagami tossed it over. “Thank you, but I think I will pass,” he told Kagami. He stood and crossed the basketball court to toss the ball at the hoop - only to miss by a mile. Kagami stared at the ball as it bounced sadly across the concrete, then back at Kuroko.

“... Are you serious,” he said. Was this guy messing with him?

“No, I could see it from your match with Aomine. Kagami is clearly stronger than I am,” Kuroko said, matter-of-fact.

“You’re hiding something,” Kagami said, suspicious. “I can’t smell anything off you - you don’t smell strong, but you don’t smell weak either. What’s up with that?”

Kuroko looked at him. “Is that so? I am a different kind of player from Aomine and Kagami. I am a shadow.”

“Ha?”

“But what you said to Aomine - that was interesting,” Kuroko said, trailing after the wayward ball to retrieve it. He tossed it back to him. “I look forward to playing on the team with you, Kagami.”

On that note, he picked up his schoolbag and left.

Kagami bounced the ball, staring after his retreating back. Man, what was with these guys? Then he thought of Aomine and the way he’d played. It was true, Kagami was used to playing out of his range, out of his league, against the best on Los Angeles’s streets. But even there, Aomine might be something different. Kagami had been beaten more times than he could count, but he’d never faced a player and felt like he _couldn’t_ beat them before. Until today.

“Ha,” he said to himself, and slowly grinned again. Maybe coming back to Japan hadn’t been such a bad thing after all.

 

 

Riko looked around the gym. Practice had started ten minutes ago and the team was starting their warm ups but one person was still conspicuously missing from the crowd of first years. And it wasn’t because she’d missed out Kuroko this time.

“Has anyone seen Aomine?” she asked, and the boys looked at each other.

“I saw him in class this morning?” Furihata said. “But he left after the bell rang, I thought he was coming here.”

“Eh? Then where is he?” Riko said. He couldn’t have gotten lost or forgotten there was practice today - could he? She glanced at Momoi and blinked - the other girl was staring at the ground, expression unhappy. “Momoi? Do you know anything about this?”

Momoi ducked her head. “I’m sorry, Coach--”

“Momoi, you should not apologise. It is not your fault,” a voice said from behind Riko.

She bit back a squeak and whipped around. “Argh! Don’t do that! And what do you mean?”

“Aomine often skips practice,” Kuroko said.

“What?” Riko said. Then she narrowed her eyes. “Is he looking down on us? If he has a problem with--”

“No, it has nothing to do with the team. He was like this during his third year in Teikou too.”

“And your coach just let him?” Riko said, disbelieving.

Kuroko shrugged. “In Teikou, victory is all that matters. So long as Aomine appeared for matches and won, there was nothing to complain about.”

“That’s why he was rejected by the other schools,” Momoi said, eyes still downcast. “Because he told them he would play in matches but he wouldn’t come for practice.”

Riko opened her mouth, then clamped it shut for lack of anything reasonable to say.

“So... he thinks he can get away with it at some no-name school like Seirin, huh?” Hyuuga said from where he stood listening, expression thunderous.

Momoi wrung her hands. “No! Seirin’s basketball team is strong, we know that! It’s just that Aomine...” She faltered.

Explanation given, Kuroko was silent, eyes fixed on Riko’s face. She looked at him, then Momoi. This from the team that had won Nationals three years in a row? What kind of school was Teikou? But they were here, and Aomine or not, there was still practice.

“Well, Kuroko’s right,” she said to Momoi, patting her on the shoulder with some sympathy. “We don’t blame you, don’t look so depressed. I’ll figure out what to do about Aomine later. Back to work, guys!”

 

 

“... Why are you here again?”

“You’re the one who sat at my table. And I like the vanilla milkshakes here.”

“Go sit somewhere else!”

“No.”

“Don’t think we’re friends or something--”

“As I said, I was here first.”

For someone who never seemed to change expressions or raise his voice, Kagami thought, twitching, Kuroko was pretty good at making you want to punch him. In the end, he settled for tossing one of his burgers over to him.

“Here. For you.”

He had to be fair - Kagami and the rest of the first years would have lost this afternoon if it hadn’t been for Kuroko.

“I’m not interested in weak guys, but I’ll admit you’re worth one of that,” he said.

Kuroko stared at him. “Thank you,” he finally said.

“So the Generation of Miracles. There are four more of you, right? How strong are the others?” Kagami asked.

Kuroko considered him and seemed to give the question some thought. “You would be instantly killed by the others too,” he decided.

“Man, can’t you put that another way?” Kagami said, but it was hard to get angry when the assessment was so matter-of-fact and impersonal.

“All of the Generation of Miracles went to different high schools,” Kuroko said. “The tournaments this year will not be easy. The team that reaches the top... will probably be one of them.”

Kagami looked at him. “Yeah, but Seirin has both you and that other guy, Aomine, right? So that makes two of you against the others.”

“Does it?” Kuroko said. Something in his voice made even Kagami pause and glance at him.

“Huh?”

“I do not think it makes a difference to him.” The words were calm but the tone was distant, as if they were discussing total strangers. There was something weird about the way Kuroko and Aomine talked about and yet never seemed to talk to each other, Kagami thought. Were they really teammates? They sure didn’t act like it.

“What’s that guy’s deal anyway? He really thinks he can get away with never practicing?”

Kuroko shrugged. “Sometimes he does his own training. But he does not see a need to become stronger when no one can beat him.”

Kagami couldn’t imagine reaching a point where he thought he couldn’t be beaten. He wasn’t sure he wanted to - he’d thought it was bad enough when he came back to Japan and realised that basketball here was nothing like basketball in LA.

“That must suck,” he said. “And it’s stupid.”

“Oh?”

“Thinking no one can beat him. This is just the beginning, I’m barely warmed up.” Kagami said. “We’ll see what he says when I beat him and become number 1 in Japan.”

“I think that’s impossible,” Kuroko said.

“Hey!”

“And isn’t it more important for Seirin to defeat the others rather than fight among ourselves?”

“So we’ll defeat the rest first,” Kagami said, teeth bared in a grin. “Who says I’m not going to beat them too?”

Kuroko studied him for a long moment, expression carefully neutral, before turning away.

“It might be interesting to watch you try,” he conceded. “Do what you want. I too will do my best.”

 

 

“Momoi, could I speak to you for a moment?”

Yuki, who’d been bent over Momoi’s desk comparing their notes from History, squeaked and started so hard she nearly fell off her chair. “W-where did you come from?!”

Momoi looked up and blinked to see Tetsu standing by her desk. They’d spoken so little since school started that sometimes even she nearly forgot that they were in the same school. Nearly.

“Tetsu!” she said, jumping up from her chair. “Yuki, do you mind? Go ahead and borrow my notes if you like.”

Yuki looked between the two of them, clearly curious, but all she said was, “No problem, don’t worry about me.”

Tetsu nodded, and Momoi followed him out of the classroom, suddenly happier than she’d been all week. Possibly since even before school had started, and the March break she’d spent wondering if she’d made the right choice, if she’d done something very stupid, if she was going to end up in trouble with - with _everyone_.

She could still be in trouble with everyone, but if Tetsu was willing to talk to her, at least that was something.

Tetsu came to a stop when they reached the school gardens, in the corner nearest the science labs. There were fifteen minutes left to the lunch break but it was quiet enough here that they could talk easily, without being completely deserted.

Momoi scanned his face, expectant. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I spoke to Coach earlier about playing in matches,” Kuroko said, “and she told me that there is something first years need to do to be officially accepted in the team. I am not sure what it is, but she told me to meet her on the roof on Monday morning at 8.40.”

She blinked. Official acceptance? Monday morning on the roof - ah. She looked at Tetsu and nodded. “I’ll make sure he’s there.”

He looked at her, expression unreadable - but Tetsu had always been good at that. Even at the best of times, it had never been easy to tell what he was thinking unless he wanted you to know. And now... all she could sense from him was the tension under his stillness, held firmly in check.

“Thank you,” he said.

“No, I should be thanking you! Coach might not have thought to tell me.”

And Aomine took it so much for granted that he would play, no matter what, it would never have occurred to him to ask. She bit her lip at the thought, remembering the ominously outraged look on Riko’s face yesterday. Momoi was on her best behaviour, but she could tell that however much Coach might like _her_ , it wouldn’t be enough to buy Aomine reprieve from the her wrath. Nothing would be enough if Coach thought he wasn't being serious.

She slid a sidelong look at Tetsu, who was watching an argument between a couple at the other end of the garden, and looked down at her clasped hands. He’d come to her because of Aomine, of course, but he didn’t have to tell her about the rooftop meeting. He could have left her to find out for herself. Surely there was some comfort to be taken from that.

“I really am sorry, you know,” she said. For what it was worth, when she’d known what she knew and done it anyway.

For a long moment, Tetsu was silent. Then he sighed. "I am not angry with you, Momoi. I do not blame you. But things are... a little difficult.”

She curled her fingers in her sweater. “I understand.”

“I understand too,” he said. “But I don’t know if it will change anything.”

In the end, they stood side by side in the garden, silent, until the bell signalling the end of break rang.

“We should return to class. I’m sorry for keeping you,” Tetsu said.

“No, don’t, I’m always happy to talk to you, Tetsu,” she said. “Thank you again.”

He gave her a brief nod, and they began walking back to towards their respective classes. As Tetsu continued down the corridor to his classroom, Momoi paused in the door of her own class to watch him leave and felt - nothing so easy as relief.

She didn’t know if they would be enough. But maybe this felt a little like hope.

 

 

Monday morning, 8.30am.

Up on the empty school roof, Riko checked her watch, checked the cloudless morning sky, and then stretched. A little peace and quiet on Monday morning was always nice to have, and she shouldn’t have to wait long.

Leaning over the railing that ran around the roof, she looked down at the rest of the school. The latecomers were making their way through the main gate, some running, some slouching and yawning their way in. A few classes were already starting to trickle into the main assembly area, and over by the club rooms, she could see the football club scrambling to pack their practice equipment away.

She checked her watch. 8.35. They’d better get here soon or there wouldn’t be enough time--

Voices from the stairs told her that company was arriving. Kagami threw the door open, Kuroko behind him, followed by a handful of first years speculating about what was happening. Aomine wasn’t one of them - but she hadn’t expected him to be.

“Should we be up here?”

“We can’t get in trouble if the second years told us to do this, right - ack, Coach!”

Riko grinned. Not bad, more than she’d expected. It was nice to know the first years were getting along among themselves.

“Fufufu. I’ve been waiting,” she told them.

“... Are you an idiot?”

“A duel?”

“Isn’t it just 5 minutes to morning assembly?!” Kagami demanded. “Hurry up with the registration!”

“Before we do that--”

The door swung open again and two familiar figures appeared. “Let go of me!” Aomine protested as Momoi dragged him on the roof with a harried expression, registration form in hand. They stopped at the sight of Riko and the other first years. Riko blinked. She hadn’t mentioned this to Momoi, but clearly she’d found out somehow. Just as well, maybe this would make things easier.

“Eh? What’s going on?” Aomine asked, taking in the other first years with their registration forms too.

Riko huffed. At least they’d managed to show up before she started her speech.

“Looks like everyone’s finally here,” she said. “So let’s get started! Last year, the basketball club made a promise to me when I became the coach. We’re here to aim seriously for the Nationals. If you’re not ready for that, then feel free to join another club!”

“Eh, what--”

“I know you guys are strong,” she said, fixing her stare on Aomine. He narrowed his eyes and she continued. “But I’m looking for something even more important than that. No matter how seriously you practice, if you’re only thinking of a vague ‘one day’ or ‘maybe’, you’ll always stay weak. I want you to have a concrete goal and the will to fight for it.”

She swept an arm at the assembly area. “So here! Now! In front of the whole school! You’ll state your name and class and your goal for the year!”

“Eh?!”

“What’s more, if you fail your goal, you’ll have to confess to the girl you like naked!”

“Seriously?!” “That’s extreme!” “We can’t just--”

Kagami looked unimpressed. “That’s it? It’s not like it’s a test.” Then he hopped up on the railing before Riko could stop him, balanced on the edge and yelled, “Class 1B, 5! Kagami Taiga! I’ll defeat the Generation of Miracles to become number 1 in Japan!”

Riko blinked - that had been easy. But maybe she shouldn’t be surprised. It’d been clear even in practice that Kagami had no fear of dreaming big. He hopped back down as easily as he’d gone up and she looked at the other first years. “Who wants to go next? The teachers will be here soon so we’d better be fast--”

“Che, this is what you were so worried about?” Aomine said to Momoi. Passing Riko with fluid speed, he vaulted over the rail onto the narrow ledge between safety and empty air.

“Aomine Daiki! Class 1 D, 17! Number 1 in Japan? Don’t make me laugh! The only one who can defeat me is me!”

Everyone on the roof gaped at Aomine as he leaped back over the rail. Did that count as a goal? Riko supposed not getting beaten by anyone except yourself was something concrete to aim for - but wasn’t that a really weird way of phrasing it? And he didn’t look like he was taking this seriously at all--

For the third time that morning, the door to the roof opened with a dramatic thump and the discipline teacher appeared, expression irate.

“Oi! You basketball brats again!”

“Eh?! So fast this year?!” She’d been counting on them to take another ten minutes to get up here at least!

“What do you idiots think you’re doing?!”

After a long, angry lecture and a few not-very-serious threats to suspend the basketball club, they were reluctantly released and allowed to head back to class to explain to their teachers why they were all late. Riko followed the first years down the stairs, but on the third floor, where she would be splitting off to head to her own classroom, she stopped.

“Aomine. One more thing.”

He turned and she held up his registration form. “I’ll accept your oath and you’re on the team. But I’m not letting you play in matches until you stop skipping practice. I won’t send out a player who isn’t serious about the game or the team.”

Aomine looked annoyed. “Serious? I could score twice as much as any player on any team. Who’s serious then?

Riko folded her arms. “We’re not Teikou. That’s not the only thing that’s important in Seirin.”

He stared at her and then looked around at the other first years, watching the exchange with wide eyes. Momoi, standing by Aomine, looked like she was torn between reaching for his arm or hiding her face. Standing behind him, nearly hidden, Kuroko wore the faintest signs of what might have been a frown.

“Che. You guys think you can aim for number 1 in Japan like that?” He jerked his chin at Kagami. “With him? Against them? Without me, you won’t stand a chance.”

Then he turned on his heel and stalked away, ignoring Momoi as she said, “Aomine! Don’t--” and tried to pull him back.

Riko clenched her fist so hard the registration form she’d forgotten she was holding crumpled. “Let him go,” she told Momoi and smiled. The other first years inched away from her, looking vaguely terrified. “Don’t stand a chance, _huh_? We’ll see about that.”

So Aomine wasn’t going to make this easy. Fine. Aida Riko had plans and no cocky first year brat was going to stand in their way.

 

 

The sky was dark, the school grounds silent and deserted when Kuroko arrived, so early that the gates were still locked and he had to climb over them. Fortunately, there was no one around to see him and he did not linger. He wasn’t sure how long this was going to take and it wouldn’t be good if a teacher caught him before he was done.

It took him some time to find what he needed in the storage shed at the back of the school, and maneuvering the field marker out of the tangle of old mops and netting knocked over a basket full of tennis balls instead. He finally cleared the mess and pulled the field marker out to the school field, where he stood for a moment and thought.

_Is there a reason you’re playing basketball?_

Kuroko had spent the long month between middle school and high school asking himself the same question. He’d thought of quitting. What was basketball to him, in the aftermath of Teikou? But come the club fair, he’d filled in the basketball club form anyway.

He had to be honest with himself. He’d dreamed of beating and proving himself to the others, and maybe Aomine most of all. Victory was the only language they understood, and Teikou had made Kuroko as surely as it had made the others. If he wanted to face them again, make them think twice, it had to be on the court.

But Kuroko hadn’t counted on Aomine being here too. He hadn’t counted on standing on the same side, with - not against - him.

In one move, Momoi had changed the rules of the game for all of them.

He still didn’t know if he could do this, but yesterday, on the roof, listening to Coach and Kagami and Aomine, he’d realised this much: he had never been ready to quit. Aomine had been the first person to teach him to not give up, and it’d taken him this far.

He hoped Coach would count this as an oath, even if he hadn’t had the chance to shout it from the roof, and set out across the field.

_Number 1 in Japan._

One way or another, Kuroko was going to see this through.


	3. Part Two

Riko had done her research on the Generation of Miracles.

Strengths and weaknesses, abilities and specialties, the stats from the Nationals matches in their third year - all extracted and filed away for future reference. She would have looked this up anyway, now that they’d been unleashed on the high school circuit, but with both Kuroko and Aomine on the team, she’d raided the club stash of basketball magazines with some actual urgency.

If she hadn’t met Aomine for herself, she might have dismissed some of the more enthusiastic articles as impossible exaggeration. But Aomine was the real deal, so Riko was counting on the others to be the same. These were not opponents they could afford to underestimate. 

The thing about genius, though, is even when you think you know what’s coming... you really don’t.

It was one thing to know Kise Ryouta could copy any move he’d seen. It was another to watch him feint, pivot back and whip around Kagami in a perfect replica of a move he’d only seen five minutes ago - and do it faster, smoother, _better_.

Kagami hit the ground and swore. The Seirin team stared, stunned.

“Kuroko, aren’t your friends too strong?” Riko heard Fukuda whisper at Kuroko.

After a long pause, Kuroko said, “I do not know this person. It’s only been a few months since I saw him, but his growth--”

Riko turned to look at him. Kuroko’s expression was as unreadable as always, but she thought she heard something in his voice that sounded a little like shock. If Kise, who called himself the weakest of the Generation of Miracles, already surpassed Kuroko’s expectations...

Kise seemed almost sheepish about his easy victory. “Eh... this... it’s a little...” He looked around the hall. “I’m too disappointed, I can’t let this pass with just a greeting after all. Please give me Kurokocchi."

“Eh?”

He turned to face Kuroko. “Come to Kaijou! Let’s play basketball together again.”

“What?!”

“I’m serious!” Kise told Kuroko, ignoring the surprised exclamations around him. “I’ve always--”

“Ki-chan, that’s sneaky!” a girl’s voice declared loudly across the hall.

Kise froze mid-sentence, then spun to where Momoi stood in the door, back from wherever she’d been, a stack of folders in her arms.

“Momochi?!” Kise said, amazed. “What are you doing here?”

“That’s not important!” she said, and marched across the hall. “You were just trying to steal Tetsu, weren’t you?”

“Eh, yes, but why are you here? I thought you were going to follow Aominechi!” Then he took in her uniform. “That’s the Seirin uniform! You followed Kurokochi?! But then what about--”

“Aomine is also here in Seirin,” Kuroko said.

Kise’s jaw dropped. He spent a full minute gaping at Momoi, who was still staring accusingly at him, then Kuroko, who simply stared back, expression calm.

“Aominecchi’s here too?!” He turned a tragic face on Momoi. “Who were you calling sneaky just now? Momochi’s obviously the sneakiest one of all! This is why you weren’t answering my messages!”

Momoi pouted. “I didn’t mean to! But stupid Aomine overslept for his last interview and got rejected by all the other schools! I couldn’t think of what to do with him at all!”

“That’s an excuse! You just wanted to follow Kurokochi too! And where’s Aominechi?”

“Skipping practice,” Kuroko said.

“Still? Ah, I guess he never changes,” Kise said. “This doesn’t change what I said, you know. Your talent’s wasted here, Kurokochi! Come to Kaijou, Aominechi and Momochi too! I can talk to my coach, there’s no way he’ll turn you guys down. We can all play basketball together, it’ll be just like Teikou! Won’t that be the best?”

Riko, who had been watching the argument with morbid fascination, opened her mouth. Was this rival school brat trying to poach _all her first years_ right in front of her?!

But before she could yell, Kuroko bowed and said, “I am honoured that you think so highly of me, Kise. But I must humbly reject your offer.”

“Do you have to phrase it so weirdly?” Kise asked. “And I don’t get it, it’s not like you at all! Isn’t winning everything to you? I know Seirin will be strong if Aomine’s here, but why didn’t you choose a better school?”

“My thinking has changed a little since then,” Kuroko said. “And more importantly, I’ve already sworn an oath to make Seirin the number one school in Japan. I don’t want to break my promise with everyone.”

Kise looked at him, puzzled. “This really isn’t like you at all,” he said.

All Kuroko said was, “Aomine is probably on the school roof, if you would like to ask him to join you at Kaijou.”

“Tetsu! And don’t you dare, Ki-chan!” Momoi protested.

Kise sighed, shoulders slumping dramatically. “Momochi, you’re so greedy. After the way Kurokochi broke my heart, I’m not sure I dare to face Aominechi. I don’t think I could deal with being rejected twice in a row, you know.”

“We’ll see you next week then,” Kuroko said. “Kise, you are interrupting our practice.”

“Kurokochi, that’s so cold!” Kise mourned.

But he got the message. Riko glowered at him as he made his exit, and he had the grace to look a little ashamed of himself (or maybe it was the sheer force of her glare making him duck his head in apologetic self defence). He vanished through the door, jacket slung over his shoulder, and the Seirin team was silent, all eyes fixed on Kuroko and Momoi.

Riko could _feel_ the questions just lingering in the air, waiting to derail practice to the point of no return.

She clapped her hands with a noise like a whipcrack. “Everyone, back to practice! Our practice match with Kaijou is next Wednesday, so no slacking off! You don’t want to look bad in front of them, do you?”

While the team straggled back into the practice formations they’d been playing in before Kise’s appearance, she turned to look at Momoi. “Tell Aomine too,” she said. Momoi blinked and Riko put her hands on her hips. “He’s not going to pass up a chance to play against one of his former teammates, is he?” she said.

Momoi cocked her head to the side and then gave her a small smile. “No, he won’t,” she agreed.

“Good,” Riko said. She would have aimed for a practice match with Kaijou anyway - it was a pity Shuutoku had turned her down - but Aomine was just about to find out exactly how serious Seirin’s basketball team was, Generation of Miracles or no.

 

 

Six days later, Furihata slunk into the school hall, shoulders hunched, as if he expected the tall figure trailing behind him to change his mind and maybe kill him instead, like a very nervous mouse being stalked by a large but disinterested cat.

Aomine yawned, oblivious to the fact that the entire Seirin team was staring at him. Hyuuga glowered and the other second years exchanged looks with each other, then Riko. In answer, she beamed. The first years regarded her with mild horror.

“Good, everyone’s here!” she said. “This is our first practice match against Kaijou, so remember to be on your best behaviour. Our starting lineup for the match today will be Hyuuga, Izuki, Mitobe, Kagami and Kuroko. But we could swap the lineup at any time so stay alert and keep your eye on the game.”

For a minute, Aomine’s expression was so bored, Riko thought he’d completely failed to realise she hadn’t put him in the practice match. Then he blinked and actually looked at her.

“What?” he said.

Riko kept smiling. “Do you have any problems?”

“We’re playing against Kise and you’re playing _them_?” he said, disbelieving. “You want to embarrass yourselves? No way you’ll stand a chance without me.”

“Do you think it’ll be any better if we put you in? When you haven’t attended a single practice in two weeks?” Riko said, staring him down. “I made myself clear. Unless you start turning up for all practices, I’m not putting you in matches. And that goes for practice matches too. If you want a chance to play against your former teammates, then show me you’re serious about this team.”

Aomine glared at her, then the rest of the Seirin team. “Practice practice practice,” he said, contemptuous. “It’s not like anyone here could practice better than me. Don’t come crying to me when you lose!”

“If Seirin’s the kind of team that can only win by using some big-headed first year brat who can’t respect his own teammates, then we’re morons who deserve to lose,” Hyuuga said. “I don’t care how many times you won Nationals - here in Seirin, you listen to Coach.”

“Whatever,” Aomine snarled, and retreated back into apathy. “If you want to lose so badly then that’s your loss. Fuck, and after I went to all the trouble to show up. It always gets so troublesome.”

He turned, only to discover that the second years had conveniently positioned themselves between him and the door while he wasn’t looking.

“Did I say you could go?” Riko said. “Just because you’re not playing doesn’t mean you’re not attending the match.”

“Ha?” he said. “What, you want to drag me there just to watch you idiots lose? Just back--”

Before he could finish talking, Koganei dove and knocked his legs out from under him.

“AURGH.”

Tsuchida grabbed his right arm, Izuki his left and Mitobe got him into a headlock. Aomine vanished under a flailing pile of arms and legs with a howl of outrage.

The first years stood and watched, mouths hanging open. Momoi had been struck speechless, and even Kuroko looked stunned. Kagami looked like he wasn’t sure if he should join in or just back away all together. Riko rubbed the back of her neck and sighed. Was this going too far? She’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but Aomine hadn’t given them a choice.

When the dust had settled, she checked her watch and looked at the team. All this trouble - and they hadn’t even left for Kaijou yet. Hopefully they weren’t going to be late.

 

 

An hour later, the Seirin team arrived at Kaijou High to find a familiar blonde figure waiting by the main entrance. Kise waved and grinned. “This place is huge, so I came to show you guys the way.” He paused and added, “Eh, where’s Aominechi?”

Kuroko pointed at Kagami. Kagami shrugged and pointed at the sack he was dragging behind him. Kise blinked.

The sack swore. Loudly.

“Aominechi?!” He turned to Kuroko and Momoi, standing beside him. “What’s going on here?!”

“Coach’s orders,” was Kuroko’s succinct reply.

Momoi bit her lip, then explained, “Coach isn’t letting Aomine play in matches until he starts showing up for practice.”

“Are you serious?” Kise said, giving Riko a startled look. She blithely ignored the conversation to admire Kaijou High’s sprawling, state-of-the-art facilities with open envy. Kaijou High’s rep as one of Japan’s best (and most well-funded) sports schools was well-deserved; next to them, Seirin’s school grounds were so small they might as well have been non-existent.

He glanced at the sack again, and humour overtook his disbelief. He laughed so hard he had to stop and hold his sides. “Seriously, Aominechi?” he said to the sack. “And after I was looking forward all week to playing against you! I almost couldn’t sleep last night, thinking of you and Kurokochi~”

“Kise, please don’t say things like that,” Kuroko said while the sack shouted incoherent threats at everyone in the vicinity.

Kise just grinned. “This almost makes up for the way Kurokochi broke my heart. How’d you guys even do it? Seirin must be stronger than I thought.”

“Don’t worry,” Kagami said. “This guy might not be playing but we won’t go easy on you. I’m paying you back for last week.”

Kise gave him a sidelong look, his smile sure and easy. “Yeah? Looks like Seirin’s a pretty interesting place after all. I won’t back down from a head-on challenge, you know.”

Kagami bared his teeth. “Of course.”

After trekking across what appeared to be half of the Kaijou school grounds, they followed Kise into one of the gyms. It didn’t take more than five minutes for it to become abundantly clear that Coach Takeuchi might have agreed to the practice match but he wasn’t taking Seirin High seriously at all.

Riko twitched. There was being underestimated - and there was being _underestimated_.

When the team returned from the changing rooms, Riko nodded at the first years and they finally released the sack that they’d been taking turns to drag around.

Aomine snarled, “What the fuck,” then sat and glowered at them from the floor.

Riko said, “Momoi has your wallet and your return ticket for the train. So unless you want to walk back to Tokyo, you’re staying.”

He glared at her but didn’t actually try to make a break for it, so Riko counted this as a win and turned her attention back to the court. She watched as Coach Takeuchi glanced over, took in Aomine - and did a double take.

After a minute of surreptitious, incredulous staring, he came over.

“Is that Aomine Daiki on your team?” he asked, suspicious.

“Yes, but don’t worry, he won’t be playing today,” she said.

Riko could _feel_ his burning desire to ask why, but in the end, dignity won out and after a brief nod, he went back to the Kaijou side of the half-court and tried to pretend he wasn’t still staring at Aomine. She smiled. Who was underestimating who now?

That said - there was no guarantee Seirin would win this gamble. Kaijou was a national-level team and the players on the court had the stats to match. Even with Kagami and Kuroko, this was going to be a hard match...

“Tch,” Aomine said from the far side of the bench, having clearly drawn the same conclusions. She ignored him.

One hour later, it was a different story.

Kagami pumped the air and whooped. 100-98. Seirin played it close but against the odds - and they were pretty tough ones - they pulled through. They _won_.

Hyuuga flashed her a grin that was equal parts happiness and wry disbelief and Riko smiled back and felt her heart lift. Maybe they didn’t have to win to make their point, but oh, victory was sweet. Over at the far end of the court, beside a cheering Kagami, she saw Kuroko straighten and glance over at the bench, at Aomine - then just as quickly look away.

Aomine, who watched the two teams on the court with an expression that had gone from annoyed to bored through to grudging interest. He caught Riko looking at him and scowled, then got up and headed for the door, apparently forgetting that Momoi still had his ticket home.

Riko looked around and realised that sometime when she hadn’t been looking, Momoi herself seemed to have vanished from her own position on the bench. She huffed. Well, it wasn’t like she hadn’t known Momoi would relent eventually. Aomine had stayed long enough to watch the match; good enough.

Good enough for now.

 

 

Aomine went around the Kaijou gym twice before he found Satsuki giggling at some of their second stringers and made her hand over his wallet. Target acquired, he ignored the exasperated face she made at him and wandered off again, not at all sorry that he’d effectively crushed whatever hopes she’d been playing on. 

Rounding the corner, he came to a stop. Kise, leaning over the sink behind the gym with his head stuck under a running faucet, didn’t see him. Aomine looked at his bent back, then shoved his hands in his pockets.

Nothing to say after that pathetic game he’d just been forced to watch.

About to turn back the way he’d come and pretend he hadn’t seen anything, another figure rounded the opposite corner of the gym, even as Kise turned off the faucet and straightened. He shook the water from his dripping hair, oblivious to his audience until Midorima pushed his glasses up at Aomine and announced, “Gemini and Virgo are supposed to have bad luck today but the two of you are much worse than I expected.”

Kise started and turned. Looking from one to the other, he sighed. “So Midorimachi came after all. Aominechi, shouldn’t you be with your team?”

“Che,” Aomine said.

Midorima just stared at him and said, “I see Kise wasn’t being delusional when he said you and Momoi were at Seirin.”

“Her idea,” he muttered. Yeah, see if he was listening to one of those again. Seirin’s not too far and has a good basketball team, she said. There’s a practice match with Kise on Wednesday, she said. _Ha._

“This wouldn’t have happened if you took your interviews seriously,” Midorima said disapprovingly. “And why weren’t you playing in the practice match? Did the Seirin coach _want_ to lose?”

Kise unhelpfully said, “His coach banned him from playing until he quit skipping practice. Can you imagine? His team dragged him here in a sack!”

“Shut up!”

“I have the pictures to prove it. Want me to send them to you?”

Midorima sniffed. “I have no interest in the antics of idiots,” he said. “Considering that Aomine was not playing, I did not think you would actually lose. That was an unpleasant match to watch, even monkeys could have done better.”

Kise pulled a face. “Midorimachi never changes,” he said.

“As boring as ever,” Aomine agreed and yawned. He was hungry and tired, and what did he even have to show for it? Man, today really was a bust. The last thing he needed now was one of Midorima’s endless lectures. “I’m heading back. See you.”

“You haven’t changed either,” Midorima said. As Aomine passed him, he added, “It doesn’t matter if it’s you or Kuroko. I’ll acknowledge your skills but choosing a no-name school like Seirin? I won’t accept that. If you think you’ll win because it’s the two of you, then I apologise in advance. There’s no way we’re fated to lose to Seirin.”

Aomine just smirked at him. “Fated? Who cares about that? And I already said it wasn’t my idea to go to the same school as Kuroko. Just make sure you give me a good fight when we meet."

He threw the last over his shoulder, and walked away. Tetsu or no Tetsu, it wasn't like he was going to lose. Aomine was just waiting to see if any of them were going to give him a game worth waking up for.

 

 

Momoi sidled back into the team the same way she’d excused herself, gone one minute, while Riko counted heads (some days she felt like a kindergarten teacher rather than a basketball coach), back the next, walking beside Kuroko, lips pursed over her notebook.

Kuroko slid a hand under her elbow to steer her away from the curb, and Riko raised her eyebrows and fell into step beside them. Aomine was nowhere to be seen, of course, but if Momoi had only snuck off to return his wallet to him, she should have been back earlier. So what had she been doing for the last half-hour?

“You saw Aomine?” she asked. Momoi looked up.

“Coach,” she said, and looked apologetic. “He came looking for me, and the match was over, so I gave them back.”

“Hmph,” Riko said. “Where were you? I tried looking for you just now but couldn’t find you anywhere.”

Momoi studied her out of the corner of her eye and said, “Oh, I was just looking around. The Kaijou premises are so big, I got a little lost. Luckily some of the Kaijou players showed me the way. They were really friendly, we were talking about how talented their regulars are! I’m sorry, I must have lost track of time.”

That sounded perfectly innocent, right? The smile hovering in the corners of the younger girl’s mouth, on the other hand, was anything but. Riko stopped and gave her a suspicious look.

“Were you _flirting_ with the Kaijou team? For information?” she said. Luckily, the rest of the team had gone ahead, with only Kuroko, trailing behind the other boys, in earshot. Kuroko, who must have had an idea of exactly what Momoi was up to.

Momoi widened her eyes at her. Riko didn’t believe it for a second.

“Notebook,” she ordered, and Momoi handed it over with every sign of obedience.

“It’s not much,” she said with modestly downcast eyes. “I’ll need more time to complete the data and really analyse them.”

Riko scanned the pages Momoi showed her. It wasn’t that she hadn’t realised Momoi was smarter than she looked; it’d been pretty clear from the start that she knew just as much about basketball as any boy on the team. Maybe even more. But this--

“You got all this from talking to them for half an hour?” she said, somewhere in between horrified and impressed. One page was devoted to the Kaijou team's training regimen. There was a column just for names of girls the regulars had crushes on. There were scribbles in the margins about _shoe size_. Another hour and Momoi could have probably collected enough information to plan an entire military campaign.

“I don’t have Coach’s eye for physical stats and abilities,” Momoi said. “But I do what I can.”

“I have some rough stats for their regulars, at least the ones who were playing,” Riko said. “If we put them together, we should be able to...”

The two girls looked at each other. This, Riko suddenly realised, was like passing a test - even before you’d realised there was a test waiting to be passed. For both of them. It wasn’t that Riko didn’t have friends who were girls, she always had. But friends who were girls who understood the way basketball had consumed her life in the past year? That was a little rarer. Momoi _got_ it.

“When you say complete the data...” she said slowly. “Were you planning to go back and flirt with the whole team?”

“Hm... maybe?” Momoi said, looking thoughtful. “But if Ki-chan sees me, he’ll know what I’m up to. There’s always other ways, of course. People tell you a lot if you just ask them the right questions.”

“Try not to get yourself in trouble,” Riko said, handing her notebook back to her.

“I’ll try my best, Coach,” Momoi said, then gave her a smile that said otherwise.

Riko didn’t buy the act any more than she had the first time, but she could feel herself grinning anyway. Their first years just weren’t going to make life easy for them, were they? But with juniors like these, Seirin was going to be a team to watch - she could feel it already.

 

 

The bell rang and Kagami jolted out of his stupor to realise that everyone was packing their things, so class must have ended sometime in the last five minutes when he’d just closed his eyes for a bit - okay, maybe more than a bit.

Finally, practice. He straightened, started piling his books, and then stopped as a sudden thought occurred to him. Twisting around to look at Kuroko, quietly packing his own things behind him, he said, “Hey, think Aomine’ll show up for practice?”

Kuroko looked up. “I have not spoken to him, so I don’t know,” he said. After a long pause, he added, “But knowing him... perhaps not.”

Kagami thought about it. “Where does he hang out?”

“He’s probably on the roof,” Kuroko said.

Kagami tossed one last notebook (empty, due to Kagami having slept through most of today’s classes) into his bag and said, “He really is an idiot, huh.”

“Why are you asking?” Kuroko asked, having stopped his own packing to stare at Kagami.

Kagami stood and slung his bag over his shoulder. “He still owes me a rematch from the last time,” he said. “If he’s not going to show his face at practice, then guess I’ll have to go look for it myself.”

On that note, he left the classroom. Better get this done fast, Coach didn’t appreciate it when they were late without good reason. He headed up, wading through the downhill current of students pouring down the stairs, the flood thinning to a trickle as he passed the upper floors and reached the door to the roof.

Pushing the door open, he squinted in the early afternoon glare. A quick look around and - there. A long figure lay stretched in the scant shade of the water tank. Heading over, Kagami found himself looking down at a scantily clad girl, winking from the magazine draped over Aomine's face.

“Yo,” he said. When Aomine refused to show any signs of life, he twitched and weighed the odds between kicking him in the head or dragging him down to the gym by his ankles. He settled for kicking the magazine off his face. Aomine swore.

“Hey! That’s my limited edition Horikita Mai issue!” he said, and sat up. The magazine had landed just by the edge of the roof, far enough that he would have to get up to retrieve it. He gave Kagami a dirty look and heaved himself to his feet. “The fuck do you want?”

“Practice is in ten minutes,” Kagami said. “You coming?”

Aomine looked disgusted. “What’s it to you?” Picking his magazine up, he dropped it into his own bag and added, “Getting big headed because you beat Kise the other day? That was nothing.”

“Sure you can say that, it’s not like you were playing,” Kagami said and smirked when Aomine glared at him. “I’m still waiting for our rematch.”

Aomine snorted. “What, you like getting your ass handed to you? Come back when you’re worth my time.”

“Only one way to find that out, right? And do you want Coach to kick you off the team or something? If you keep skipping like this, there’s no way she’ll let you play.”

“Che. That's not your problem."

Kagami stared at him. “Are you stupid? We’re on the same team, of course it’s my problem. You think you’re so good no one can beat you? Yeah, no one can beat you if you can’t even _play_. You Generation of Miracles are a load of bullshit.”

There was no warning for what happened next. Aomine didn’t answer, just _moved_ , his fist swinging hard for Kagami’s jaw. If he hadn’t instinctively shifted, the first punch might have laid him out.

“Hey!” he yelled, dodging back, but Aomine just glared and swung again. Fine, if that was how he wanted to play it--

Fifteen minutes later, the team turned and stared as Kagami marched into the gym, Aomine gripped by the back of his shirt, both of them bloody and bruised.

“Dai-chan!” Momoi cried out, shrill with distress, and shot across the court like a lightning bolt.

Coach snapped her mouth shut. “Kagami! Aomine! What’s the meaning of this?”

Kagami released Aomine and gave them a sheepish look. “Uh. Sorry. Think I got kinda carried away.”

Being five minutes late for practice was the least of his problems that day.

 

 

The day after the fight, Kuroko ventured onto the school roof for the second time since school had started.

He went up during lunch and was not surprised to find it empty save for the single solitary figure sitting with his back against the railings, chewing his way through a store-bought curry bun. Aomine didn’t look up when Kuroko walked over to the rails to look down at the school courtyard below.

In the end, all he said was, “Akashi won’t like it if you break the oath.”

Coach had settled the matter yesterday by telling Kagami not to do it again, much as she clearly understood the impulse. If Aomine wanted to play, he would come of his own volition or not at all. Then she’d made the two of them run laps and drills for two hours straight, and Kuroko thought it said something, that Aomine had actually complied with the order rather than try to fight it.

Aomine finished his lunch and said, “Che.” But he’d hunched his shoulders almost without realising it, which was probably the closest he was going to get to admitting Kuroko had a point.

“I think our seniors are good people,” Kuroko said. They were nowhere close to being as strong as Kagami or Aomine. They were determined, but not especially talented. Kuroko knew what genius looked like too well to be naive about their chances as a team against the Generation of Miracles, as they currently stood. But...

“When I look at them, I feel glad to be playing basketball with them,” he finally said. How strange was it to find this feeling again, like recognising an old friend turned stranger?

Aomine said, “Yeah? And what about Kagami? So he’s going to be your new light, then.”

The words were contemptuous, almost mocking and Kuroko looked down to meet Aomine’s narrowed eyes. For a long moment, his hands curled into fists and he imagined hitting Aomine in the face hard enough to shut him up, as if he could shake his mind loose that way. Then the moment passed and he turned.

“No,” he said. “He’s not. I am a shadow with no light.”

And then he walked away, because Kuroko had done what he could, and for the moment he no longer cared if it was enough.

 

 

Aomine slouched into the gym and resolutely refused to look anyone in the eye.

The team exchanged wondering looks but were wise enough to stay silent. Kagami was outright grinning, and Riko gave him a warning glare before he could open his big mouth. Momoi looked like she’d been handed first prize in the lottery, and Kuroko... Kuroko looked as if he hadn’t noticed Aomine’s presence at all.

Riko looked at their errant first year and folded her arms. Well, so long as he kept this up...

“Right, everybody, ten laps around the gym, let’s go!”


	4. Interlude: Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When in doubt, write hijinks! Right? ... Right?

Ah, spring. The season of youth. The season of beginnings! The season... of love! _Too much_ the season of love.

Not that Riko had anything against romance. But Momoi was constantly being obliged to excuse herself from practice for Undisclosed Reasons that inevitably had her shuffling back ten minutes later, looking apologetic. Were her army of lovestruck suitors idiots? Didn’t they know she was manager of the basketball club and had practice? They could at least have the courtesy to get their timing right, Momoi had things to do! Also, you would think the boys would have gotten the message after the tenth rejection, right?

(Riko was conveniently forgetting that she was up to seventeen rejections at this point and the only reason the number hadn’t gotten any higher was because shortly after becoming student council vice president, she’d gotten so busy she sometimes forgot to show up to be confessed to.)

Unfortunately, today’s exhibit not only hadn’t received the memo, he seemed set on doing so as dramatically as possible. The gym doors crashed open. The Seirin basketball team took the interruption as a welcome opportunity to stop their footwork drills and stare.

Silhouetted in the afternoon light, a tall, broad-shouldered figure thundered, “Momoi Satsuki!”

Momoi blinked at the interloper, her mouth a small ‘o’ of surprise. “Y-yes?”

Riko squinted. Wasn’t that Oomura, vice-captain of Seirin’s American football club? And was that... the rest of his club behind him, hiding in the bushes outside?

Faced with the object of his affections (and the combined curiosity of the entire basketball team), Oomura faltered and turned crimson. He rallied by throwing back his shoulders and clasping his hands behind his back.

“I, Oomura Tanaka!” he proclaimed to the gym. “G-greatly admire your beauty and grace! And I would like to humbly request! That s-should the Seirin football club p-pass the Tokyo preliminaries! T-that you would consent! T-to go out! With! me!”

Speech done, he gave Momoi a low bow. She was already wearing her apologetic face.

“Oomura-san, I’m very flattered!” she said, and gave him a quick bow in return. “But I’m very sorry, I already have someone I like.”

Oomura’s face fell like a landslide crashing down a mountainside in a spring flood. Even Riko felt a fleeting pang of sympathy. “S-someone you like? But - but - who?!”

Ten pairs of eyes slid over to Aomine. Aomine, who looked like he couldn’t care less if Momoi decided to date the entire football team at once.

Momoi blushed and pressed her hands to her cheeks. “My heart is given to Kuroko Tetsuya!”

Ten pairs of eyes blinked. Wait, what?

Oomura made a manful attempt to hold back his tears. “I - I understand. I hope this lucky man treasures your affections and makes you happy, or I, Oomura, will make him regret the day he was born!”

On that note, he made his exit, and the gym doors slid shut on the sight of Oomura sobbing into the shoulder of a teammate as he was dragged away. Riko wondered how badly this would affect the football team’s chances in the Tokyo finals.

Ten pairs of eyes now swivelled to fix themselves on Kuroko, who regarded the proceedings with his usual unreadable expression. A single, unasked question hovered in the silence, pregnant and waiting--

“Huh I thought you were dating that jerk,” Kagami said and jerked a thumb in Aomine’s direction. “Don’t you follow him everywhere?”

Hyuuga made a strangled noise and the team turned horrified eyes on Kagami. Riko considered hurling her clipboard at him before imminent disaster either got him punched or ended in tears, but it was too late and also, just maybe, she’d been spending the past month wondering the same thing...

Aomine was roused into saying, “What? No way. And who’re you calling a--”

“I’m not dating Aomine!” Momoi protested. “We’re childhood friends and neighbours, that’s all!”

“Oh,” Kagami said, completely oblivious to the fact that he was walking straight into the gaping jaws of painful death despite Izuki making desperate “Abort! Abort the mission!” gestures at him. “So does that mean--”

Kuroko chose this exact moment to kick his knees in.

The team stared at Kuroko. Kuroko stared back and ignored the roar of, “Kuroko, you asshole!” drifting up from the vicinity of the polished wood floor.

“Coach. Should we get back to practice?” he said.

Riko blinked at him. “Oh. Uh... yes we should.”

The team looked at Momoi (blushing and staring dreamily into the distance), looked at Kuroko (expression: blank), and then looked at Aomine (who scowled back). Then they shrugged. Fukuda offered Kagami a hand and heaved him back to his feet, and the team turned their attention back to drills.

If the three of them were happy to let things stand as they were, who were they to ask, right?

Season of love, Riko thought to herself. _Right_.


	5. Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit goes to [stillskies](http://archiveofourown.org/users/stillskies) for the basketball beta and [readerofasaph](http://archiveofourown.org/users/readerofasaph) for general beta. All mistakes are my own.

Meijou Institute was a fucking waste of time. 

They took one look at Kagami and already looked like they wanted to piss themselves. Aomine didn’t know why they’d bothered to show their faces if they were going to be this pathetic. By the end of the first quarter, he’d scored 46 points and he wasn’t even breathing hard.

Five minutes into the second quarter, Aomine scored his 67th point by driving through the defense so hard that half of the Meijou team ended up on the floor. The referee didn’t call a foul, but Coach called a time-out anyway, and finally swapped Aomine out of the lineup to put Mitobe in instead.

Aomine took the towel Satsuki handed him and scrubbed it over his face and hair, slinging it over the back of his neck. Then he stalked off in the direction of the changing room without a backward glance.

“Aomine!” Coach said, her voice like a whip-crack, and he threw a scowl at her over his shoulder

She frowned back, but all she said was, “We still have the Haisen match later at 2. Don’t forget.”

“Tch,” Aomine said. As if anyone would let him.

“Hey, not so fast, catch!” 

He turned again just in time to catch the flying bottle of Pocari before it brained him. 

Aomine stared at the bottle, then stared at Koganei. “Oh. Thanks,” he said.

“Yeah, don’t forget to re-hydrate or Coach will yell,” Koganei said. 

Aomine waved the Pocari in answer, and left the wasteland of the Meijou match behind him. He stopped in the changing room and considered just grabbing his stuff and leaving. Satsuki’s data had pegged both of today’s teams as so shit even Kagami could beat them single-handed. It wasn’t like they needed him here. 

The only reason he’d shown up was because Satsuki had invaded his room at seven this morning and spent half an hour going on about how Coach would throw him straight off the team if he skipped a match, and all the horrible ways Akashi would be Extremely Disappointed in them all the way from Kyoto if that happened, and how she was going to auction off his entire porn _and_ shoe collection if he didn’t get out of bed _right now_ \--

Satsuki probably had a point, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. 

He abandoned the changing room and found an empty corridor in the upper levels, deserted enough that he didn’t have to listen to the distant racket of the matches below. Aomine chugged the last of the Pocari, stretched himself on a bench and closed his eyes. 

Furihata found him there a couple of hours later and woke him by saying, nervously, “Uh, Aomine? Are you asleep? Um, maybe I should get Momoi - Aomine, we’re getting lunch before the next match--”

He grunted and opened his eyes. Furihata jumped back with a yelp before he realised that Aomine wasn’t actually going to maim him.

“It’s lunchtime. You’re hungry, right?” he hazarded

He was, so he got up and trailed after Furihata as they made their way back to the team. Furihata told him about the Meijou match - “We won 147 to 31! It was amazing!” he said, like the game hadn’t been a foregone conclusion. 

“But you didn’t see Shuutoku. Their match was pretty amazing too,” Furihata said. Aomine snorted. Right. He didn’t even need Satsuki’s data to guess how the Shuutoku match must have gone; Midorima was so predictable you could fall asleep watching him. “And their ace, your old teammate, you missed him too. Kagami uh, introduced himself--”

But Furihata spoke too soon. When they reached the wide corridor that led to the sports complex’s main entrance, a milling crowd of bright orange uniforms clogged the way. Aomine couldn’t have missed them if he was blind. And the Shuutoku team was big, but not so big that Aomine couldn’t spot, without even trying, Midorima’s head sprouting from the chaos like mutant plant life.

Furihata and Aomine jostled their way to the entrance. Aomine didn’t give a shit about saying hi and he was pretty sure, given a choice, Midorima would rather pretend not to know him. But some trick of fate - maybe Midorima’s own weirdass luck - spat them out of the crowd at the same spot at the top of the entrance steps anyway.

Midorima pushed his glasses up at him. Aomine took in the bandages and the stuffed bear in the crook of his arm and couldn’t even work up the energy to roll his eyes.

“Yo,” he said. 

Midorima frowned. “I didn’t see you with the Seirin team earlier,” he said. “Did you skip a match again?”

Aomine shrugged. “I showed up, but it’s not like they needed me for those losers.”

“Hmph. I see your attitude hasn’t gotten any more serious,” Midorima said disapprovingly.

“Yeah? I don’t see your game getting less boring either,” he said.

“ _Boring_?” Midorima said, offended. “Do you think your reckless attitude and playing style are enough to win just because they’re ‘exciting’ to you? What a naive way of thinking. Maybe you’re a good match with your brainless monkey of a teammate after all.”

“Ha?” Aomine said. He couldn’t be talking about Tetsu--

A loud snicker made him look at the boy beside Midorima, watching the conversation with avid amusement. “Still bitter you can’t get the ink off, Shin-chan?”

Shin-chan glared at his teammate. “Bitter? It was idiotic and rude--”

“But he was right, there’s no way you’ll ever forget Kagami Taiga’s name now. Hey, why don’t you show it to him?”

“I will do no such--”

“It’s his left hand!” the boy sang out and snagged the lucky item out of Midorima’s grip to toss it lightly into the air.

“Takao! Give that--” Midorima reached desperately for the bear with both hands - long enough for Aomine to read the black ink scribbled all over his left palm, faded but legibly proclaiming Kagami’s name.

Aomine stared. Then he sniggered. Then he gave up and shouted with laughter. Sure, he knew Kagami was an idiot, but this was a whole new _level_. Shit, he almost wished he’d been there to see Midorima’s face. 

Midorima stopped ranting at his teammate to glare at him. “Of course this would appeal to your juvenile sense of humour,” he snapped, ignoring the fact that he was the one clutching a stuffed toy in a death grip.

Aomine just sniggered some more. “Outdone by a brainless monkey, huh? Better watch out for your luck,” he said.

“Shuutoku is done for the day,” Midorima said. “ _Our_ outcome is decided. With an idiot like that on your team, you’re better off worrying about your own luck--”

“Che,” Aomine said. “Luck? You think I’m like you?”

They eyeballed each other, and Midorima’s face took on a pinched look like he wanted to say something but couldn’t. Then he stopped, pushed his glasses up again, and said, sourly, “Certainly not.”

And on that note, he turned on his heel and marched back down the corridor to rejoin his team. Aomine turned to the steps that led outside, where Furihata stood hovering in between eavesdropper and bystander.

“Coach is calling,” he said, even as a girl’s distant voice cut through the noise and chatter. 

“Aomine! Furihata! Where have you been?! Get over here!”

Aomine’s stomach grumbled as he slouched down the steps to where the rest of the team was waiting, and he thought of the waste of time that was going to be their next match, and the match after that, and who knew how many more shitty matches Coach was going to make him play, before the others finally made it worth his time. 

He thought of all the things he could be doing with his Saturday, like sleeping, or re-reading Mai’s latest photobook, or shooting hoops at the court near his house, or - sleeping. Hell, even doing homework had to be less boring (not that Aomine planned to do his homework anytime soon). 

Fucking preliminaries. 

 

 

Thanks to their first years, Seirin blitzed through the preliminary matches with the destructive momentum of a cannonball. It was unnerving. Riko remembered how hard they’d had to fight for every win last year, even with Kiyoshi on the team. Surely things couldn’t be this... easy?

But they weren’t going to stay that way. The semi-finals loomed on the horizon now, and Seirin stood in the long shadow of the giants that were Seihou and Shuutoku.

Momoi bent over her data, rattling off statistics and tactics and strategies like she breathed and dreamed in numbers. The second years huddled around the club room television, re-watching Seihou matches with obsessive focus until even the DVD player began to squeak in ominous protest. Out in the gym, long after practice, Kagami challenged Aomine, over and over - and with every loss, he jumped that little bit higher, harder, faster.

Inexorably, the Tokyo semi-finals dawned. 

 

 

The tension in the changing room was so heavy, even Kagami could feel it. The second years were uncharacteristically quiet, the first years too intimidated by the silence to try and break it. The only ones who looked unaffected by the upcoming matches were Aomine, who yawned and looked as grumpy as he always did, and Kuroko, who looked exactly as expressionless as he always did.

Guess that’s what earned you a name like Generation of Miracles. No way Kagami could pretend to the same indifference - anticipation drummed in his blood like a rising wave, and release was too close, too far. 

Coach surveyed the room, hands on her hips. 

“Everyone looks too down. To cheer you on, I’ve thought of a reward!” She struck a pose like a model on a cutesy fashion magazine cover. “If you win the next match, I’ll give each of you a kiss on the cheek! How’s that?”

Silence filled the room again. To give Coach credit, at least it was a _different_ brand of silence.

“Um, what’s with that pose...?” Izuki finally asked. 

“And that wink, I don’t think that’s a good idea...” Koganei agreed, expression dubious.

“Way too flat,” Aomine concluded, unimpressed.

Hyuuga swiftly averted the inevitable death of the Seirin basketball team’s most troublesome ace by slamming a fist down on Aomine’s head. “Oi! Asshole! Don’t talk about Coach like that! Even if you have to fake it, at least try to look happy!”

The team looked at Coach, felled by this final blow. “Um...”

When she lurched back to life, the team backed away. “Fu... fufu... So you won’t get it if I don’t spell it out, morons! Think of how much they owe us after last year! Add on one year’s interest and that’s a shitload! And you, shitty brat! Who’re you calling flat, huh? I’ll quintuple your training, koooraaa!”

Mitobe hovered worriedly while she sulked, and Hyuuga looked sheepish. “Sorry, sorry... We do know.” 

Looking around at the team, he cleared his throat. “Alright! Before we head out, let me say it again. Once the match starts, you’ll feel it. First years, be prepared. Seihou is strong. To be honest, after our total defeat last year, we really hated basketball for a while. We came this close to quitting.”

The second years slumped as one. 

“Eh, wait! Don’t get depressed! Chin up! I mean, be happier! This time will definitely be different. At least, I really do believe that we’ve grown stronger,” Hyuuga said, and his smile was wry but real. “So the only thing left to do is win. Let’s go!”

“Yeah!”

Even as the rest of the team got ready to head out, Kuroko didn’t move, suddenly noticeable in his stillness. Kagami came to a stop beside him. “Something up? Still annoyed Coach is making you sit this one out?”

“It’s not about that,” Kuroko said. “Kagami. Has there ever been a time when you hated basketball?”

“Ha?” He stopped and thought about it. ”I guess not.”

“The reasons might be different but to hate something you love is... an incredibly painful feeling. I think this is a very important match for our seniors,” Kuroko said. 

Kagami, following the direction of Kuroko’s stare, found himself looking at Aomine’s back as he bickered idly with Momoi across the locker room. 

“I was just thinking, that is all,” Kuroko said, and Kagami didn’t ask if he was thinking about their seniors, or about something else entirely. “Please play well, Kagami.”

Kagami snorted in answer. “I don’t need you to tell me that,” he said as they headed for the door, out to where Seihou was waiting. 

 

 

“Izuki, here!” 

At Kagami’s shout, Izuki whipped around and threw. Kagami caght the pass and drove past the Seihou captain, fast and reckless, heading straight for a layup. But even as he leapt for the basket, Iwamura slapped the ball out of his hands. 

“Shit!”

But before any of them could reach it, Aomine shot across the forecourt, so fast he seemed to snag the ball out of the air only as an afterthought. Tsugawa and Sakamoto were close behind him but too slow, too late, to stop Aomine as he twisted out of Iwamura’s reach, dribbled the ball between his legs to catch it left-handed and then, with a flick of his wrist, sent it arching to the hoop. 

From Riko’s point-of-view, watching from the sidelines, Aomine hadn’t even bothered to look at the basket. But whatever else she might doubt about him, she didn’t doubt his aim. 

The ball fell, the crowd cheered, and the second quarter was over. The score read 38-27 in Seirin’s favour. Down on the bench, the whispers of the crowd only came to Riko as a low but growing murmur, but she could guess at what they were saying easily enough. By now, people were starting to notice that Seirin had landed the most infamous member of the Generation of Miracles. The spectators might dismiss the rest of Seirin’s lineup, but out on the court, no one could ignore Aomine. 

A monster had challenged the kings, the crowd said to each other. Who would win the battle? 

Riko met Hyuuga’s eyes as he came off the court. 

“You’re sure about this?” she asked, one last time. Seirin was in a good position, but Seihou wasn’t the type of team to break even with this kind of pressure.

Hyuuga rubbed the back of his neck and looked at the scoreboard. “With a lead like that, it’s not like we could ask for a better chance,” he said. “Yeah, let’s do this.”

She nodded. “Alright, we’re swapping the lineup for the second half! Aomine and Kagami out, Tsuchida and Koganei in.”

Aomine and Kagami both stopped short. “Ha?” “Eh?” 

Kagami said, “What’s going on? We’re only playing the first half?”

“This was the plan from the start,” Riko told him. “Don’t forget, we still have the Shuutoku match after this.”

“I thought that’s what we were holding back Kuroko for, not--”

“We need all three of you to be in good condition for the Shuutoku match. You’re no use to us exhausted,” Riko said. “Seirin’s here to win.”

Aomine scowled. “Won’t mean shit if we lose to Seihou,” he said. “You think you guys can deal with that asshole? You can barely deal with the rest of them.”

Riko blinked. Then she tapped a finger on her cheek and said, sparkling, “Oh, are you having fun with Tsugawa? It certainly looks like it to me!”

Koganei, in the middle of stripping off his t-shirt, cracked up in agreement. “Looked like it to me too! Sorry to interrupt your playtime~”

Aomine gave them a disgusted look. Riko kept beaming and looked at Momoi on the bench. “How are the odds looking?”

Momoi pursed her lips and looked thoughtful. “It’s more or less within my calculations,” she said. “I was hoping we’d have a bigger lead to work with, but I guess it can’t be helped that Tsugawa and Sakamoto gave Aomine so much trouble...”

Aomine answered that with a loud snort and flopped down on the bench beside her. Momoi handed him his towel and hid a giggle behind her clipboard when all she got for her trouble was a glare. 

Hyuuga smacked the back of Kagami’s head. “Shut up and sit down,” he told him. “What do you take your seniors for, huh? Leave Seihou to us, we’ve been waiting for this chance for a year!”

Back on the court for the third quarter, Tsugawa flailed in exaggerated disappointment at finding Aomine out of the game. Hyuuga loomed over him, probably in clutch mode again, and whatever it was he said, Tsugawa slunk back to his lineup looking cowed. 

For once, Aomine wasn’t sleeping on the bench or slouching off to the changing room. He looked as bored and annoyed as always, but he sat and actually watched as Koganei made a failed three-point shot and Tsuchida got the rebound in. In two months of grudgingly-attended practices and matches, this might be the first time Riko had seen him pay attention to a game. And all it’d taken was Tsugawa annoying the shit out of him with his big mouth and stubbornly persistent defence. Maybe the brat was good for something after all. 

“Your seniors aren’t that weak,” she told Kagami with a knuckle to the cheek. Maybe Aomine, seated further down the bench, heard her. Maybe he didn’t. 

Seirin scored the first point of the quarter, but Seihou surged back into the fray. The points gap closed, slow but steady, and by the end of the third quarter, the score read 49-46. Seirin were clinging to the lead, but only barely. Through it all, Aomine watched and didn’t say a word.

Could they do it? Riko refused to think they couldn’t. This gamble had its risks. The fight wouldn’t go easy for Hyuuga and the second years, not the way it would for Aomine and Kagami. But Riko didn’t care about easy.

Then, midway through the final quarter, just as Seirin was beginning to widen their lead on Seihou again, Koganei crashed off the court and knocked over a bench with a yell. 

“I think it’s just a light concussion,” Riko decided after examining him, half relieved the damage wasn’t worse, half tempted to shake him for being so reckless. “But there’s no way he can finish the game. We need to sub him out--”

“Then let me play!” Kagami said. “I can’t just sit and do nothing--”

“What’re you talking about?” Aomine cut in from the bench. “If we’re going to win this, it’ll have to be me.”

“What did you say, asshole--”

“Did you idiots forget what you’re saving your energy for?” Hyuuga snapped before the two of them could start a fight. “Let us finish this.”

“I agree with Kagami,” Kuroko said from where he’d suddenly appeared between Hyuuga and Kagami. “I also wish to do something for our seniors, and I have not played yet today. Please let me help.” 

Riko and Hyuuga exchanged looks and she gave him a small nod. The second years had no more backups, and Kuroko had a point. He was fresh off the bench and there were only five minutes left to the game. The hardest five minutes, by Riko’s guess, but it shouldn’t be so bad as to impact his performance against Shuutoku later. 

Hyuuga glanced at the scoreboard again, and gave in. “I get it. I’ll leave your fellow first years to you then, Kuroko.”

Aomine snorted but didn’t make any further comment, and after scowling at Kuroko for a bit, Kagami made an irritated noise and said, “Fine. Get them good for us.”

“I will try my best,” Kuroko replied with his mock-solemnity that was nonetheless entirely sincere. 

He kept his word. The second years were reading Seihou like a book now, and with Kuroko on the court, Seirin’s own patterns changed so Seihou could no longer predict them. When the whistle blew, Seirin had won by a 8-point margin. 

Out on the court, as the teams settled into their lines for the final send-off, Riko watched as Tsugawa jabbed an accusing finger in Kuroko’s direction and demanded, “What’s your name?”

“It’s Kuroko Tetsuya.” 

“I’ll remember it! And you too!” Tsugawa jabbed his finger in Aomine’s direction next. “There’s no way we’re letting you through next time!” he yelled across the court before his captain smacked the back of his head and he shut up. Aomine didn’t answer the challenge, but he didn’t turn away either, and there was a strange look on his face that wasn’t boredom, but wasn’t anything else Riko could identify either. 

She looked up at the scoreboard again, took a deep breath and tried to pretend her eyes weren’t wet. All their training, all their research - Hyuuga scruffed her hair and said, “Hey, pull yourself together. It’s too early for that.”

One king down, and one more to go. 

 

 

The door opened with a bang and Kagami started awake from where he’d fallen asleep on the floor, leaning against his locker. Around him, the locker room chatter came to an abrupt halt.

Aomine ignored the silence and headed straight for his bag, until Momoi’s pointedly wide-eyed stare made him snap, “What? Game’s about to start, right?”

The team exchanged more disbelieving looks. Tsuchida said, peaceably, “You’re early, that’s all. Momoi was just about to give you a call.”

Aomine snorted. “Our opponent is Midorima. No way I’d be late. How long do you think I’ve been waiting?” He swept the room with an impatient glance. “Are we leaving or not?”

Hyuuga just heaved a loud sigh. “Looking at the first years this year just makes me tired. Am I getting old already?” he asked no one in particular.

“Don’t feel bad about it. Old is gold, so this means there’s no way we’ll get silver!” Izuki called from across the room.

“ _Aurgh_ , Izuki. Why are you agreeing with me anyway? You’re supposed to disagree!”

Having reassured himself that Aomine aside, the rest of the laws of the universe were still functioning, Hyuuga looked at Coach, who scanned the team one last time, and nodded at them.

“Alright, let’s go!”

The crowd that showed up for the Seihou match earlier had been impressive, but the audience for Shuutoku looked like it was at least double that. The chatter rose to a dull roar as they made their way to the sidelines, a couple of spectators even leaning over the side to point at Aomine. Wasn’t exactly hard to figure what most of them had come to watch. 

The attention rolled off Aomine like he didn’t even see the crowd, feel the weight of their expectations hanging in the air. He went through warm-ups with the rest of the team as usual, barely seemed to glance at Shuutoku across the other side, but all of them could feel the impatience radiating off him.

For the first time, Seirin was about to find out what Aomine could really do when he was paying attention.

Over at the Shuutoku bench, Midorima aimed a pointed glare at Kagami, then just as pointedly pretended not to see him. If he had anything left to say to Aomine or Kuroko, he didn’t say it. The teams took their places along the division line and the referee got into position, but Aomine’s focus must have been contagious, because all Kagami could see was the ball, rising up into the lights, and all he could hear was the blowing of the whistle.

He hurled himself into the air and the ball was his. 

The moment his feet hit the ground, the game was a race. Aomine never went all out at the start of a match - most games, Kagami didn’t think he ever went all-out - but whether it was because he was facing a former teammate, or the Seihou match earlier had been a better warm-up than he’d admit, he didn’t hold back now.

Between them, Aomine and Midorima set the pace, relentless and unforgiving. Aomine stole the rhythm, but Midorima never let up, matched him shot for shot. Shuutoku inched their way into the lead, but Seirin was never far behind them.

Then, as the first quarter drew to a close, the Shuutoku point guard ducked Izuki’s attempt at a steal and passed to Midorima. And Midorima, standing on Seirin’s side of the court, practically under their basket, stilled.

_No way_ , Kagami thought, too late. The ball flew - seemed to hang suspended in the air, even as it floated impossibly across the court - and fell.

The crowd went wild with disbelief.

Midorima ignored his audience. He didn’t look relieved that he’d made the shot, or even pleased. He just pushed his glasses up and said, “Now do you see the difference between us?”

For a moment, still staring at the Shuutoku basket, Aomine had looked - blank. Then, recovering himself, he smirked instead. “Looks like Satsuki’s guess was right,” he said. “How long’ve you been waiting to show that off?”

Midorima looked offended. “‘Waiting to show it off’? Maybe I was waiting to see if _you_ would even take the match seriously enough to be worth playing.”

“Tch. That’s what you were worried about?” Aomine scoffed.

“You would do well to actually listen to Momoi for once,” Midorima said, already turning away to follow his team off the court. “If you continue to underestimate us, you won’t stand a chance. It’s that simple.”

Back on the Seirin bench, Hyuuga groaned and said, “You know, Momoi’s data is amazing, but sometimes I wish you weren’t always right.”

Coach huffed at him. “Don’t talk nonsense, imagine how much worse things would be if we didn’t even have any warning.”

“Either way, there’s not much we can do to stop him though,” Izuki said.

Momoi gazed into the distance, expression thoughtful. “Midorin waited until the end of the quarter to use it,” she mused out loud. “It’s exactly as expected, Coach.”

Coach nodded at the team. “Don’t get distracted, our strategy’s still on track. It’s true that we can’t really stop that shot, but there’ll be a limit to how often he can use it. He’s a careful player - he won’t want to use up his chances too early. It’s the other shots we need to watch out for.”

Then the bell for the second quarter rang, and there was no time for further discussion.

Everything went as Coach and Momoi had predicted - Midorima led the Shuutoku attack, even as Kagami and Kuroko struggled to stop him together. Under Coach and Momoi’s training regime, Kagami’s jumps were improving, but not enough, not fast enough. Every shot passed just that little bit closer, but it still _passed_ as Midorima made one impossible shot after another. And Kuroko couldn’t block or distract him with Shuutoku’s PG on his tail, cutting off his own passes.

But Seirin had their own weapon here too, and Aomine’s shots were just as impossible, just as unstoppable. The numbers climbed but Kagami barely noticed. His vision had narrowed, until all he saw was the ball, rising above him, even as he fought to reach it. When the second quarter ended, Seirin had won a very narrow lead on Shuutoku, 48 to 47, and he still hadn’t managed to block Midorima.

In the locker room, Kagami slumped on a bench and looked around at the others. The second years looked exhausted, he realised. It was amazing they’d held out as long as they had, but could they last the rest of the match? Kagami had only played for half of Seihou and he felt drained already. The only one who didn’t look like he’d been put through a wringer was Aomine, and even he was breathing heavily.

Sure, they were in the lead, but it didn’t _feel_ like it.

“We’ve pulled ahead for now,” Coach said, “but it’s too early to relax. I know it’s hard on all of you, but I need you guys to hold on.”

Aomine looked up from his single-minded consumption of Mitobe’s honey lemons and said, bored, “What, it’s not that hard. Just give me the ball.”

Coach smiled and the room temperature dropped by five degrees. “My, aren’t you enthusiastic today, Aomine~? Too bad your friend in Shuutoku doesn’t think so simple-mindedly. If you run out of stamina just when Midorima decides to go all out in the last quarter, we’ll be in trouble, won’t we?”

Aomine scowled. “That’s not going to happen.”

Coach folded her arms. “You’re forgetting that you played this morning, whereas this is Midorima’s only game today. There’s no way your body can maintain this speed with no side effects. And the second years played a full match this morning. They’re exhausted. You’re the one leading the attack, but you need to slow the pace for the third quarter.” When Aomine didn’t reply, she narrowed her eyes at him and added, “I’ll pull you from the game if I have to.”

“Che,” was all he said, but he looked away and didn’t protest when Koganei stole the honey lemons off him.

Aomine paid as much attention to Coach and Momoi’s strategies as he did to everything else - he listened when he felt like it and ignored them when he didn’t, but Coach’s threat to pull him worked. He slowed down for the third quarter and harried Shuutoku’s offence by stealing their passes to Midorima, forcing Shuutoku to switch strategies and lean on their captain’s inside shots instead.

But even Midorima, it seemed, could get impatient. Seconds before the end of the quarter, he cut away and ran for Seirin’s basket, and Kagami _knew_. He sprinted after him when Shuutoku’s #8 passed, too fast for Izuki to cut him off. Midorima caught the pass and Kagami threw himself into the air even as the ball rose above him with inexorable finality - and felt his fingers graze rough rubber.

He saw Midorima jolt in disbelief, eyes flickering to his, really looking at him for what felt like the first time in the match so far. The whole stadium was silent as the ball fell, just one degree short of perfect accuracy, bounced off the rim - only to be slammed back through the hoop by Shuutoku’s captain.

The crowd gasped, the buzzer rang, and Shuutoku took the lead; a declaration of intent so transparent, even Kagami could read it.

All Coach said, in the break between quarters, was: “I don’t think I need to tell you what to do from here. Shuutoku won’t be holding back, and neither will we.”

“Just go after the ball, right?” Hyuuga said. “There’s nothing left we need to think about.”

“Just go round the bend, it’s nearly the end!” Izuki said, then yelped when someone threw a towel at his head.

Kuroko, benched for the third quarter, was back in his jersey. He hadn’t said if he’d figured anything out yet, but Coach must have decided to see what he could do anyway. And the only thing Aomine said, as they headed back to the court for the final quarter, he said to Kagami.

“Don’t get in my way.”

He didn’t wait for an answer, so Kagami was left scowling at his back, reminding himself that if he punched Aomine in the middle of a match, Coach would kill him. He didn’t have time to nurse his irritation anyway. From the moment the buzzer blew, the game was all-out war.

Aomine had played harder today than Kagami had ever seen him play, but the first three quarters, it was rapidly clear, had been nothing more than a taster. The brakes were off, and he sliced through everything Shuutoku threw at him like a knife. Only Midorima came close to the speed - and familiarity with Aomine’s formless style - needed to slow him down, but Midorima alone was not enough.

Adrenaline thrummed in Kagami’s veins. It was almost all he could do just to keep up with Aomine and Midorima; he didn’t know how the second years were still standing at all, but somehow they’d found a final burst of strength for the last quarter. Hyuuga’s shots were sloppier, Izuki’s passes more erratic, but Kuroko seemed to have found another way to distract Shuutoku’s PG, and with his passes back in play, they were holding up via sheer stubborn tenacity.

If Kagami let himself get left behind now, he could forget about ever catching up. He was this close--

Then Midorima took aim for another half-court shot and Kagami jumped from behind him. There was no thought, in that frozen moment when his palm made contact with the ball, only the certainty of pure instinct, and as the ball went flying for the sidelines, Aomine scooped it up in passing, made for the basket and scored, almost before Shuutoku could recover their breaths.

Midorima looked stunned. But he didn’t let the shock slow him down for long and Shuutoku didn’t hesitate, just went back on the attack again. Something had changed though. Kagami blocked Midorima’s next shot too, and between the pressure of Aomine’s merciless attack and Kagami’s jumps, Seirin surged back. Shuutoku fought them every step of the way, but when the buzzer rang and the fight was over, the score read 87 to 82.

The monster had risen, the two kings lay fallen. Seirin had won. 

 

 

Kuroko wondered if it had ever occurred to Midorima that his teammate might be a very dangerous person if he put his mind to it. Knowing Midorima, this was unlikely. The fact remained, however, that five minutes after walking into the okonomiyaki restaurant, Takao had re-shuffled half the seating arrangements and no one had thought to stop him until they realised that he’d put Aomine, Kise, Midorima and Kagami all at the same table.

Over at the next table, Coach was watching with shameless glee. Momoi, seated beside her, giggled helplessly even as Izuki asked, in worried tones, “Is this a good idea? What if we get thrown out?”

“But don’t you want to see what happens? It’s so exciting!” Coach said, blithely indifferent to their potential eviction from the premises.

“You arranged this on purpose, didn’t you?” Kasamatsu said to Takao, over at their own table with Mitobe and Kuroko.

“Huh? No idea what you’re talking about!” Takao said, beaming. By the same masterstroke, he’d put Kuroko beside him so the two of them had a clear view of the central attraction. Kuroko was not yet sure if this was his idea of generosity or vengeance.

Kasamatsu looked skeptical, but didn’t press the matter. Kuroko picked up the menu. When he’d finished placing his order, he looked across. The others had also ordered and Aomine was audibly demanding that Kagami do the cooking since he’d ordered the most ingredients, while Kise and Midorima bickered in lower tones beside them. No explosions or fistfights seemed imminent.

The hour passed noisily but amiably - and if Kuroko found himself sometimes watching, out of the corner of his eye, while Kagami cooked and Aomine stole food off the grill and Kise laughed when he burned his tongue - they were sitting right opposite. It was difficult to completely ignore their presence.

Contrary to expectations, they weren’t getting along too badly. Midorima was still sulking about his loss, but Kise's easy humour made up for it, and today's matches had left Aomine and Kagami too tired to do more than grumble half-heartedly at each other. There were no casualties - at the first signs of trouble, Takao flipped his okonomiyaki across the room onto Midorima's head, conveniently ending what had sounded like the beginning of a serious argument.

Definitely a dangerous person, Kuroko concluded, even as Midorima dragged Takao to the washroom to clean noodles and batter from his hair.

Aomine and Kise took Midorima's exit as their chance to laugh so hard they were whooping, and Kagami's shoulders shook silently. For a moment, it was easy to look at them and believe-- Believe what? The question was a cold hard fist in his gut. Kuroko had guessed from the beginning that Kagami had something in him very like the Generation of Miracles; Kise had confirmed his suspicions, and today’s match had driven it home. Kagami was not Aomine - had a long way to go before he reached Aomine’s level - but he was already closer than anyone else Kuroko had seen, almost too close. 

And what then? 

He looked away and caught Takao watching him, expression thoughtful, as he trailed a cleaner, but still annoyed, Midorima, back to their tables. He said nothing when he sat back down though, just picked up the conversation as easily as if he’d never left. Soon after, Kasamatsu got up to check the bill with Kise, and Mitobe was pulled over to the next table to teach Coach and Momoi how to make their okonomiyaki actually edible. 

Left alone at their suddenly quiet table, Takao leaned back and observed, “For someone who just won, you don’t seem too happy about it. Should I feel insulted?”

After a long pause, Kuroko said, “I’m very happy for our seniors.” That, at least, was true. 

“But not yourself?” Takao jerked his chin in Aomine’s direction and added, “He doesn’t look so happy either. Shin-chan’s a total tsun when we win too, but you guys seem kinda different.”

“Why do you play basketball?” Kuroko asked him. 

It was Takao’s turn to pause now, surprised. “Funny question. It’s not that complicated, you know? It looked like fun so I joined in middle school and got pummeled just like everyone else. And I figured I could quit, or I could get revenge. Except guess who showed up on the same team? So much for my big plan, huh.” His eyes fixed on Midorima, he smiled to himself, wry, and continued, “So since I can’t beat him, I figure I’ll have to make him recognise me instead. That’s it.”

“Midorima is lucky to have you as his teammate,” Kuroko said. 

Takao laughed. “Pretty sure he wouldn’t agree right now. So what about you?”

“It’s a long story,” Kuroko said. He looked at Aomine across the room, slung loose-limbed in his chair, making faces at something Midorima was saying. Maybe it was only Kuroko who saw the apathy that pulsed, restless and frustrated, under his skin. Recognition? What would it take to make Aomine to acknowledge him - or anyone at all - now? 

Maybe it was only Kuroko who was no longer sure who or what he might be to Aomine or the rest of the team. 

“To answer your question… right now, I don’t know,” he finally said, because it was the only answer he had. 

“Yeah?” Takao looked at Kuroko for a long moment, then said, “Tell me next time then. When you’ve figured it out. And don’t expect the same trick to work on me twice.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Kuroko said. 

He grinned in answer, then looked up as Midorima called him over. Everyone was done eating, the groups splitting back into their component parts again. Midorima and Takao left first, and Kuroko, watching them leave, realised that he’d made - something like a promise again. Another promise he didn’t know if he could keep, after all the promises he’d already made and failed.

“Kuroko? Yo, move it, we’re leaving!” Kagami called, jolting him out of thought.

For a moment, he watched the Seirin team as they straggled from the restaurant. Still no answers, in the end. Standing, he followed them out into the early summer night.


	6. Interlude: IDIOTS × 2

Riko thought she’d braced herself for the worst. It wasn’t like she’d had any expectations to begin with - she’d told herself to lower all her expectation levels to _negative_ for this.

Apparently, not negative enough. 

The moment of reckoning had arrived and Aida Riko gazed into a bottomless abyss of black despair. 

_How were grades this bad even possible?_

Aomine and Kagami’s test scores were in a neck-to-neck race for rock bottom. Kagami’s tests were a sea of red ink. Half of Aomine’s tests petered into blank paper where he’d obviously given up and fallen asleep halfway through. Neither of them had managed to pass _a single subject_ and both of them had at least one paper where they’d scored _absolute zero_. 

“This is… too amazing…”

“We know you two are idiots but this is insanely bad!”

“How do you even score zero on a test?!”

“By handing in a blank paper! Aomine, did you sleep through a whole test?! It’s not like you’ll get marks for writing your name!”

“And Kagami! What’s with you failing English?! Didn’t you just come back from the States?!”

Under the onslaught of their seniors’ horror, the culprits made a half-hearted attempt at defence: “There’s too many irrelevant details in the English here! No one cares about grammar!” “Who cares anyway? It’s just grades--”

In an ideal universe, Riko would have solved her basketball idiot problems by picking up one moron and using him to beat the other moron. Unfortunately, she still needed them in one piece for the Inter-High. She settled for quelling all protest by punching it in the stomach.

“No arguing! Anyone can play basketball but idiots won’t win!”

At least Kagami had the sense to shut up. Aomine, despite being doubled up on the floor, had the temerity to look up and try to open his mouth. She pre-emptively silenced him with a flying kick. 

“Morons who can’t even pass one subject are not allowed to talk! We’re going to need a extreme cram study plan just to make sure these two don’t end up in remedial classes!”

 

 

The war council assembled in Riko’s living room that night to lay out the battle plans. They had less than a week to the review test and there was no time to waste. Riko wasn’t even sure all the cramming in the world could save grades this bad. Teaching one idiot would have been bad enough, but teaching two? Had the both of them slept through _every single class_ this year? 

Arms on hips, she glared at the idiots in question. Kagami at least had resigned himself to his fate with minimal grumbling. Aomine, on the other hand, had only been ambushed and dragged here through the combined efforts of Furihata, Mitobe and Momoi, and was currently pretending to ignore the entire discussion.

“One person per subject won’t be enough,” she said. “We’ll need at least two--”

Koganei raised a hand. “Actually, I have an idea for Aomine, so why don’t you leave him to me and Momoi?”

Everyone turned to stare disbelievingly at him. “Eh? Are you sure?” 

“Yep! Tsuchida helped us out this afternoon, so we managed to put this together,” he said, and produced his secret weapon with a flourish. “It’s the Aomine-edition Study File!”

Everyone stared. 

The file in question was a thick binder packed with photocopied notes. This wasn’t so strange in itself, except that the cover had been liberally decorated with Hirokita Mai pictures. Koganei flipped the pages to reveal that he’d done the same thing to the contents, a combined compilation of his and Momoi’s notes, by covering any spare space with more pictures. A few pages even had cutesy speech bubbles drawn in pink highlighter, so it looked like “Mai-chan” herself was giving encouraging messages to “Dai-chan”. 

“... Is he an elementary school kid?”

“Is this really supposed to work?!”

“He definitely spends more time oogling Mai-chan than doing his homework though--”

Presented with the folder, Aomine forgot that he was still sulking and looked blankly amazed. Then, while they watched with bated breath, he reached out and pulled it over, stared reverently at Mai-chan’s face on the cover, and flipped it open.

“... It’s pretty good, I guess,” he finally muttered. 

Koganei and Momoi flashed proud victory signs at each other and the rest of the war council let out a collective sigh of relief. At least this meant they didn’t need to tie Aomine down for the rest of the week. Riko wasn’t sure if he was actually reading the notes or just staring at Hirokita Mai’s boobs, but maybe if they were lucky he’d absorb the information via sheer osmosis. 

They turned their attention back to Kagami. He quailed under the laser focus of their stares.

“Hey… do you think it’ll work on Kagami too?” 

“What pictures are we supposed to use for him, burgers? Basketballs?”

“We can’t show him basketballs, he’ll just end up going outside to play instead--”

“Hey, what do you take me for? Some kind of simple-minded pervert like that moron over there?!” Kagami protested. 

“I don’t think it’s going to work if he can’t even read the notes,” Kuroko observed.

A glum silence conceded this essential point. Pictures of burgers were not going to improve Kagami’s kanji comprehension, however hard he tried. 

“So basically, he’s even worse off than Aomine.”

“Hey!”

“Guess it’s back to the original plan for Kagami then....”

 

 

“How did the tests go?! Aomine, you first!”

Having collected Aomine and Kagami from their respective classrooms and dragged them out into the corridor, Riko, Hyuuga and Izuki awaited the results in grim suspense. 

Aomine lifted his paper, and the numbers “201/308” shone upon them, a beacon of relief. He’d barely scrapped through, but he was in the clear. That was one troublesome ace cleared for the final league, at least. 

“Kagami! Yours next!”

Kagami, who wore a strangely sheepish expression, presented his own paper. Stunned silence fell over his seniors.

“... What?”

“Did you get the right paper?! 90 out of 308?!”

“And you scored 98 points for Japanese?! How did this happen?!”

“Um… all I did was roll the pencil…”

“What pencil?!”

“It’s a special rolling pencil made by Midorima,” Kuroko explained. “I gave it to Kagami because he seemed to need help.”

“Midorima has this kind of power?! That’s crazy!”

“Oi, how come he never gave me anything like that?” Aomine said to Kuroko.

Kuroko shrugged. “Maybe he didn’t get a chance because you didn’t come for practice.”

For a moment, it looked like Aomine was going to sulk; then he scowled and shrugged it off with a “Che, whatever. Who needs help from that pain in the ass anyway?”

“Maybe he’ll make one for you if you ask,” Izuki suggested. “You’re former teammates, after all.”

“Who’s asking? I made it in, didn’t I?! I’m not the one that’s so dumb I need help from something weird like that!”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean, asshole?!”

Riko inserted herself between the two of them while Hyuuga took Aomine by the collar and Izuki grabbed Kagami’s arm before they could start a fistfight in the middle of the corridor. She clapped her hands with a loud crack, calling everyone to attention. 

“Alright! The two idiots are safe!” she announced, the general dismissing her troops. “Now get them back to class before the teachers show up!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Riko's urge to beat that motherfucker with that other motherfucker can be credited to [this masterpiece](http://onesilenthour.tumblr.com/post/33828283513/recordedmyth-korra-avatar-kyoshi-i-need). I would have let her do it but then Aomine and Kagami would both be very inconveniently dead. SORRY, RIKO.


	7. Interlude: Dog Days

“Satsuki! What the hell did you do to my Mai-chan photobook?!”

Aomine stormed into the Seirin gym, twenty minutes late for practice, and came to a confused stop. For one, Coach hadn’t started yelling at him the minute he came in. For another, the rest of the team didn’t seem to have started training yet. And most bizarrely of all, Kagami was... cowering in a corner of the gym?

“The hell are you doing?” he finally asked. 

Kagami jumped and seemed to cower even more. “Nothing! It’s nothing! I’m just... kind of bad with... dogs...” 

“Dogs?” Aomine said. “In here? Are you stupid or--”

A string of barks and yips interrupted before he could finish, and he turned to stare at the rest of the team standing at the other end of the gym. Huddled around Tetsu, he realised, and the small black and white puppy he was holding in his arms. Coach was busy squealing over the team’s new addition and Satsuki, apparently overcome by the sight of Tetsu with a cute animal, had swooned in a corner while Furihata and Kawahara hovered worriedly over her. 

So this was why no one had heard him come in. Aomine blinked, then looked at Kagami again. 

“You’re scared of _that_?” he said. ”It’s a puppy! How pathetic are you?”

“Shut up!” Kagami snapped, but it didn’t hide the fact that he was quaking in terror. This might be the funniest thing Aomine had seen _all year_. Maybe being forced to show up to practice on the first precious day of summer break was worth something after all. 

“Oh, Aomine, you’re here,” Tsuchida said from across the gym. “Look at what Kuroko found!”

Izuki added, “Eh? What’s Kagami doing over there?”

“Just don’t bring that any closer!” Kagami yelled over his shoulder. Obviously the entire team came over, puppy in tow, and did exactly that. 

“But why?!” “A dog bit me when I was a kid, okay!” “Shouldn’t you have more guts than this? Think of your name! You’re supposed to be a tiger here!” “What’s my name got to do with - AAHH GET THAT THING AWAY.” “But Kagami, it’s so cute. Just look at it--”

 

 

The Kagami vs Tetsu battle of wills ended in Kagami’s complete defeat. No one was surprised, least of all Aomine. 

When Coach finally dismissed them for the day, he finished the last of his water, linked his hands behind his head and lay back on the gym floor. Courtesy of the team’s official new member, practice had ended up taking way longer than planned. No use rushing for the showers and ending up crammed with everyone else in the club room. 

The gym was quiet in the late afternoon sun. Aomine yawned, and was teetering on the edge of sleep, when something bumped his elbow and he opened his eyes. 

“Wha--”

He turned his head just in time for a basketball to bump his elbow a second time and then bounce straight into his face. “Oi!” He yelped and sat up, even as Nigou peered at him from the other side of the ball and barked in answer. 

Aomine tried to scowl and failed. “What, you still want to play?” Nigou bumped the ball into his side again and looked expectant. 

He rolled his eyes and looked at the ceiling, “Give me a break. Wasn’t one whole day of that enough?” 

Nigou gave him a Look that said he didn’t buy Aomine’s act for one minute and ran for the court. He stopped under the basket and barked again. He obviously wasn’t going to leave Aomine alone until he got his game. 

So much for that nap. 

“Fine, fine, I’ll play. But don’t come crying to me if you regret it!” 

Aomine heaved himself to his feet and picked up the ball. Nigou ran and jumped for him the minute he crossed the sidelines but Aomine dribbled in a wide arc around him, made for the three point line and dunked. Nigou chased Aomine down the court, and what he lacked in size, he made up for with noisy enthusiasm. 

Three shots later, Aomine finally let Nigou catch the ball as it rolled away. “You’re going to have to try harder than that!” he called. Nigou leaped for the ball, rolled with its momentum, and ended up on his back, legs in the air.

Aomine laughed as he yipped and flailed his way back to his feet. “Told you you’d you regret it,” he told him.

Undaunted by his upset, Nigou nudged the ball back in Aomine’s direction for another round. Aomine had just picked it up when Satsuki’s voice made him freeze. 

“Nigou! Niiigoouu, where are you? Oh, Tetsu! What are you - eh, Aomine? You too?”

Aomine turned to see Tetsu standing in the door to the gym, Satsuki beside him. Nigou barked and ran for them, and Satsuki giggled as she knelt to pet him. He locked gazes with Tetsu. How long had he been standing there? How the hell had Aomine not noticed him at all? What had he seen?

_Everything_ , Tetsu’s pointedly expressionless stare seemed to say. 

“You really are a basketball fan, aren’t you?” Satsuki said to Nigou. “Just like Tetsu!” She looked up and seemed to finally notice the awkward silence hanging above her. Aomine could feel her eyes flicker to first Tetsu, then to him. When neither of them spoke, she said, brightly, “What are the two of you doing here? I thought you’d be with the rest of the team.”

“I was looking for Nigou as well,” Tetsu said.

Aomine shrugged. “Figured the showers would be full so I was waiting for everyone to clear out first,” he muttered. 

Unfortunately, the next thing Satsuki noticed was that he was still holding the ball. Her eyes went wide. “Were you doing extra practice? she said.

“What? No way,” Aomine said. He dropped the ball so it bounced twice and then rolled to a stop by Nigou. “He wouldn’t stop bugging me to play with him, that’s all.”

“Oh? What a clever boy!” Satsuki said to Nigou. “If Coach knew you’re so good at making Aomine practice, she’d definitely have let you stay from the start!”

Nigou preened shamelessly, Satsuki laughed, and Aomine suddenly remembered why he’d bothered to show up to practice today in the first place. He jabbed an accusing finger at the both of them. 

“You should talk! Where the hell is my Mai-chan photobook?! Hand it over!”

For a moment, Satsuki looked guilty - _but not guilty enough_. “Coach said she’ll give it back once the Inter-High is over!” she said. “I’m sure she won’t really do anything to damage it--”

Aomine had once watched Coach snap three historical figurines in half, one after another, while Captain tried to pretend he wasn’t crying in a corner. He gave Satsuki a disgusted look. “Like I’ll believe that! If she tears even _one page_...” 

“It’ll be fine if you just show up on time and do your extra exercises properly!” she said, unapologetic. 

“Why the hell do I even need to do those stupid exercises--”

Tetsu made no attempt to speak or interrupt the argument, but Aomine felt something bump his foot and looked down to see that the ball had rolled back to him when he wasn’t looking, with Nigou close behind it. Nigou wagged his tail and barked up at him, then turned to Tetsu and did the same. 

All Tetsu said was, “The showers should be clear in another ten minutes. Why don’t you finish your game?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, just nodded at Satsuki and left. She watched him leave, gave Aomine a doubtful, sidelong look, wavered for a moment in the door, then announced, “Just remember to bring him back to the club room when you’re done playing!”

“Hey, who said I wanted to play--”

Satsuki waved and ran off after Tetsu before he could even finish protesting. Aomine scowled in their general direction, then looked down to scowl at one who’d gotten him into this in the first place.

Nigou knew when the battle was won. He bound back onto the court, barking loudly. Aomine bent to pick up the ball, bounced it a couple of times and rolled his shoulders. Between Nigou and Kagami, practice hadn’t actually been too boring today. He could humour him just this once. 

 

 

(It wasn’t just the once.)


End file.
